


More Than Desire

by nekofreakz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-11-25 08:05:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 43,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekofreakz/pseuds/nekofreakz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Magical Historical Romance. Debt-ridden and nearly bankrupt, Harry James Potter, the eighth Earl of Gryffindor, had no choice but to resign himself to the fate of marrying a lady with a hefty dowry. And yet, one encounter with a dark-haired stranger has made him an unwilling participant in a wicked game of desire, in which he must wager his heart… or lose it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Severus/Harry Big Bang. Utmost thanks and love to both my dearest Betas: mermaidstar5 to steer this story in the right direction and Badgerlady for patching the countless holes so it wouldn’t sink before sailing. Truly, without the help of you two, this story would be nothing. And now, last but not least, lots and lots of thanks to obiskus for these two lovely illustrations.

**More Than Desire**

  
****  
Mayfair, London, 1860  
  
Harry James Potter, the eighth Earl of Gryffindor, sank into the hidden seat within an alcove and sighed heavily. The young lord was wondering what he had done in his previous life to deserve a predicament such as this. He had ill luck since he was just a little child. His parents, the late Lord and Lady Gryffindor, had died in a carriage accident—at least that was the excuse given to the Muggles. The truth was that his parents and his godfather, Sirius Black, had perished in an attempt to protect villagers from a sudden attack from Muggle-hating wizards.

It was unfortunate that the young earl’s last living relative, Aunt Petunia, was the most terrible guardian. She had always hated her ‘perfect’ sister and wasn’t overjoyed to be burdened with her sister’s son. Although it couldn’t be said that she hated the Potter family fortune that came along with the orphaned nephew. For it was true that she and her husband, Vernon, had lavishly spent the said fortune for years, before Vernon had died from a heart attack—which wasn’t that surprising, judging by the whale-like appearance of Vernon Dursley.

Then, before the young lord could come back to London, Petunia and her poor excuse for a son, Dudley, had fled the country with the rest of the fortune and also had left a stack of debts behind. This left the last heir of Gryffindor no other choice than to seek a rich bride rather than marrying the lady of his heart.

Hence the young lord was trapped in Lady Fudge’s ball, looking far more miserable than anyone his age ought to have done.

XxXxX

  
Stifling the urge to sigh again, Harry twined his hands together as he searched for a reason he hadn’t succeeded in luring any rich heiress to be his wife. Well, truth be told, he was sure that he wasn’t ugly, but times had changed; a title wasn’t everything now. None of those rich heiresses' protective matchmaking mamas would want their daughter to marry a penniless man like him, no matter how pure his blue blood was nor how far back he could trace his roots, even if his roots could be traced to William the Conqueror.

Not that he wanted to marry at such an early age, right after he left Hogwarts, much less to someone other than Ginevra Weasley whom he had known and loved since childhood. But his position came with responsibilities, ones that he didn’t want but couldn’t simply shirk.

Besides, it broke his heart just to think about sending his old housekeeper and gamekeeper away. Poppy and Hagrid had stayed for his sake all these years, while many others had quit their jobs in the Potter household. He couldn’t count how many times they had gone without pay since Vernon had become his guardian. And he couldn’t let his tenants, whom he had known all his life, starve this winter. Willing or not, he had to secure a bride before this season ended. The sooner he married, the better.

XxXxX

  
“Mate,” said his red-haired friend, the Honorable Mr. Ronald Weasley, the youngest son of the Viscount of Ottery St. Catchpole, who had finally discovered where Harry had hidden himself.

Harry breathed his best friend’s name with another sigh, “Ron.”

“Is it true, then? You’re looking for a rich bride?” asked Ron.

Harry looked down to the marble floor, feeling ashamed that he had chosen a large dowry over Ginevra, no matter how honorable his intention was. For all he knew, as her brother Ron had every right to slap the glove at him. As much as he didn’t want that to happen, he couldn’t deny the truth.

He cleared his throat and admitted with a heavy heart, “Yes, it’s true, Ron.”

“Gracious heavens, mate!” said Ron, slapping his back with enough force to send him flying forward. “Don't sound like that. I’m not that petty. I’ve heard about your uncle…” Ron’s face grew somber. “I’m not going to challenge you at dawn over something that you can’t help.” As they both knew, as much as Harry loved Ginevra, she didn’t have the money that he needed so desperately because the Ottery St. Catchpole family was almost as poor as he was, maybe poorer. “We’re still friends, you have my word,” said Ron, squeezing his shoulder, offering his support.

Harry felt his throat tighten as he heard his friend’s words, his cheeks flushing. He should feel relieved that Ron understood what had happened but instead he felt unbearable disgust toward himself, even though the whole thing wasn’t his fault. But if Ron knew about it then that meant all London’s high society also knew about it. It was bad enough marrying someone who was poor, but marrying someone who had a huge debt on his back was practically unthinkable. He couldn’t help but feel that his efforts would be all for nothing.

But before he could reply to his friend, there was a sudden loud commotion from the other side of the ballroom. Tilting his head, his eyes met the figure of a black-haired man, a head taller than the other men, with an intimidating demeanor. The newcomer was lingering at the main entry of the ballroom and was looking apprehensively at the matchmaking mamas who were competing to bring his attention to their daughters.

The irony of the situation between him and the man filled his chest with bitterness. Here he was, selling himself out all night with no success, while a stranger suddenly came out of nowhere and grabbed all the attention of the young and marriageable ladies.

Though, if he had to describe the man, he could say that he wasn't conventionally handsome per se. Nor could he be defined as beautiful. His cheekbones were overly sharp and his black eyes were too cold. He had a hooked nose and sallow skin, and his demeanor was as cheerful as the Grim Reaper’s. But the confident arrogance in his posture, as if the man considered anyone else beneath him, seemed to fill the room, distinguishing him from other men, aside from his height. And Harry’s instinct told him that the man wasn’t someone to be trifled with; he reminded Harry of a serpent, silent but lethal.

“Who is he?” he asked his friend, curiosity trumping jealousy.

“You haven’t heard of _him?_ ” said Ron incredulously, raising his eyebrow.

Harry almost rolled his eyes at him. “No, Ron. I _am_ preoccupied by something else lately,” he replied rather sarcastically.

 _Like how to pay a mountain of debt that didn’t seem to diminish even a little bit._ His stomach churned uncomfortably at the thought.

Ron sent him another knowing, pitying glance before replying, “That man is Severus Snape, a pharmacologist.”

Harry blinked and repeated, “A pharmacologist?”

Men with occupations were still not received well in a closed high-society party such as this one, since most nobility clung to their old ways as much as they could. Well, with exceptions for the rich ones, and judging from the quality of his clothes alone, Severus Snape seemed to be a very rich man, indeed.

“They say he is rich as Croesus,” said Ron admiringly. “He is an Englishman, but he made his wealth in America.” The ginger-haired man lowered his voice to a whisper. “ _But there is also a rumor that he is quite a ruthless man; I heard he cut off the fingers of a man who stole from him. Though I think it’s exaggerated…”_

Harry looked across the room at the scowling Mr. Snape and couldn’t find it in him to agree with his friend that the rumor wasn’t true. The older man looked like someone who was capable of inflicting such cruelty. Still, despite the rumors and all, it would seem that Mr. Snape was deemed the best catch of the season. He probably would need more than a stick to beat back his pursuers.

Ron turned his head to the left and right then continued in a hushed voice so he wouldn’t be heard by anyone, “Mum said, he is _also_ a wizard.”

Staring at said man with knitted brows, he said in the same hushed voice, _“He is?”_

Ron nodded vehemently, “Though my mum didn’t really know him; Snape is much younger than her.”

Among the general public, it was thought that he and Ron had attended a boarding school in France; in truth, they had attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Scotland, and so had their parents.

The rule of absolute secrecy was put into effect because of the war started by a dark wizard between magical and Muggle communities two hundred years ago. The war had ended badly for both sides and had immensely strained the relationship started by the legendary King Arthur of Britain and his famous magical counselor, Merlin.

The witch hunt started by Muggles out of fear after the war had cost many innocent lives – among whom none of the victims were actually magical – and so it was decided that it would be wise to conceal the fact that magical arts still existed.

“So, do you think he’ll tell us how to get rich fast if we ask him?” asked Ron, sounding hopeful.

Harry looked at the dark-haired, brooding man and shook his head in disagreement. “Somehow, I doubt that, Ron.”

XxXxX

  
Despite the female crows that were cawing near his ears, Severus was fully aware of the curious looks people had given him. Normally, one by one they would be discouraged by his cold stare and quickly turn their faces from him. However, this time one of them stared straight at him without blinking: a young man with messy black hair who looked barely old enough to join a formal ball such as this one. He would have dismissed him like the others without a second thought if not for the stunning brilliance of the young man’s eyes, which couldn’t be fully hidden behind the round glasses. Curiosity piqued, he further scrutinized the young man’s face. His lips thinned considerably as he found that the face reminded him of his old archenemy.

He cleared his throat to interrupt Mrs. Brown, who was busy making much of her daughter’s music ability to him, and asked her about the young man who had caught his eye. She gladly enlightened him about his social and financial background. Just as he had guessed, the black-haired youth was, _indeed,_ a Potter.

He had heard about the demise of Potter and his wife while he was away from Britain, but the description of the young Potter’s dire financial state made him raise his eyebrow. The Potter family was known to be more than well-off, _at least_ when the late earl was still alive.

“It’s such a pity, Mr. Snape,” said Mrs. Brown. “If only the young Lord Gryffindor weren’t so debt-ridden, he would make a perfect candidate for a spouse.” At this, she let out a high-pitched bird-like laugh that made the hair on his neck stand up, then winked at him, “ _Of course,_ the same can’t be said about you, sir.”

Severus gave her a thin, polite smile, craftily hiding his disgust at her silly act. One might think she was selling herself in the marriage market instead of her daughter. Then he pretended to politely listen as she continued telling him about how wonderful her _precious_ daughter was.

XxXxX

  
Harry had slipped out of the ballroom as Ron asked his fiancée—The Honourable Hermione Granger, a baron’s daughter who had also been his best friend since their Hogwarts days—for a dance. As Harry walked through the corridor, he counted silently in his head. Tonight would be the sixth ball that he had attended, the sixth failed attempt to snag a rich wife. No one wanted to dance with him, even out of good manners, because of his lack of coordination. He was fully aware that people were calling him the ‘impending disaster’ behind his back. Now most women would rather pretend to be sick than risk having their feet crushed by him, making him feel his age: inexperienced and foolish, completely unworthy to be Lord Gryffindor.

He admitted that he didn’t really fit into polite society. He couldn’t dance, he couldn’t talk smoothly like other gentlemen, and he was awfully nervous when interacting with any woman other than Ginevra and Hermione. If only he wasn’t an only child, he would gladly step out of the succession, disappear from Britain, and let any relative have his title.

 _But you’re Lord Gryffindor_ , he told himself, trying to find in himself his ancestors’ famous courage. _No Gryffindor born was a coward! You’ll make them turn in their graves otherwise!_

He squared his shoulders and stood straighter, deciding that he would dance with one of the ladies during the set after supper. There was too much at stake; he must triumph over this, whatever happened. And so determined was he that he didn’t notice the shadow near the door until it was too late. He let out a startled yelp as he slammed head first into a broad shoulder.

“I— I’m very sorry,” Harry stammered nervously, feeling out of breath, before he looked up right into the deepest black eyes that he had ever seen and instantly took a step back with a squeak. “Mr. Snape!”

“Indeed,” said Mr. Snape dryly, then went on in a silky, velvet voice, “ _However_ , I believe we haven’t been introduced.”

“No, we haven’t,” Harry admitted at once, blushing to his ears. “I do beg your pardon, good sir. I’ve been hearing from my friend about you.”

“Oh…? So it would seem that my reputation precedes me,” said Mr. Snape coolly, giving him an unpleasant smile.

His mouth flapped soundlessly, not knowing how to remedy the situation. It was totally uncalled-for of him to mention the older man’s reputation, be it good or not, before being introduced. But it was too late to feign innocence about it.

Mr. Snape admonished him softly, “Seeing that you knew me, sir, wouldn’t it be prudent to give me your name?”

Harry blushed even harder, feeling ashamed of his rude behavior, and was grateful that the corridor was quite dark. “I’m Gryffindor, sir, pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“I see, so you’re Lord Gryffindor…” Mr. Snape traced his finger across his lips and fixed him a steady look from very dark eyes before he went on in a quiet, almost unfriendly tone, “Then let me offer you a suggestion, my lord. It is best if one does not speak of being pleased until deciding whether one is pleased or not.”

With that, the older man turned his back and walked away, leaving Harry standing there dumbfounded, as that wasn’t quite a reply he had expected from someone he had just met!

XxXxX

  
Harry was still fuming about Mr. Snape’s rudeness when he came across him again at another ball two days later. At whatever angle he tried to consider their conversation, he could only come to the conclusion that Mr. Snape had insulted him. Maybe he had offended the older man by mentioning that reputation of his, but surely he didn’t deserve to be treated so.

And again, at this ball, he was no one, while Mr. Snape was the most popular man. Only two balls left before the season ended, and so far he’d had no success. It was still all right now, when his tenants could still hunt and get food from the forest, but he didn’t know what to do when winter came. How could they survive another year if there was no money left to buy food?

XxXxX

  
His answer came one day later, when a note was sent to the hotel where he would stay for the rest of the season. It said that Severus Snape wished to see him at his townhouse. It had immensely surprised him because he and Snape weren’t close enough to make social calls; in fact, he believed that they shared some kind of enmity. But he shouldn’t be so narrow-minded; maybe Snape wanted to call a truce. If so, he should let bygones be bygones. Besides, it couldn’t hurt to make another friend instead of an enemy.

So far, he hadn’t realized how wrong he was. Never would he have thought that he would wish he had never gone to Mr. Snape’s house.

XxXxX

  
“I beg your pardon?” Harry said indignantly. “Is this some sort of joke, Mr. Snape? Because I do not find it funny at all!”

It had to be Snape’s horrible sense of humor, because he couldn’t have heard correctly when the man asked him to be his mistress in exchange for money. He had never felt this humiliated before, not even when the Dursleys belittled him. Did the man seriously think he would offer his body for money? Wasn’t it obvious that he was a man through and through, inside and outside? Had the man gone mad somehow in the short time since he had last seen him?

His temper rose when Snape didn’t deny it. “You can keep your bloody stinking money! I don’t need it!” he shouted furiously, feeling severely insulted, then got up from his seat and walked to the door.

“Three days,” said Mr. Snape calmly as if the man didn’t hear him. “That’s how long my offer will stand.”

“Then you’ll wait for _nothing!_ ” he spat crossly at him, slamming the door behind him for good measure.

XxXxX

  
Severus didn’t know what had possessed him to offer Potter money in exchange for being his bed partner. It wasn’t as though he couldn’t find anyone who would willingly fill that position. He had never been attracted to his own gender before, and _definitely_ not to someone who looked like the _accursed_ James Potter.

He had initially wanted to humiliate Potter by driving him out of his ancestral home. It was only just revenge, since Lily had laughed at his feelings for her when he was merely a poor apprentice. He had thought of her as his dearest friend and had fallen deeply in love with her. But never had he realized that she’d never thought of him as an equal. To her, an equal was someone like James Potter: an heir to an earldom, a direct descendant of Gryffindor, and the future owner of one of the richest estates in Britain. To reverse the situation between them would be the sweetest revenge.

His plan was ruined by one whiff of Potter’s sweet smell that made him instantly aroused: the same smell as when he first encountered the boy. He actually hated the sweet cloying perfume which was a trend among the women around him recently, but Potter’s smell wasn’t the same. It felt more natural, more inviting. For a moment, he could almost imagine how the boy would look, writhing in pleasure in his bed with a flushed face and slightly gaping mouth, and his green eyes darkened with desire.

Aside from the unexpected change, Severus certainly didn’t regret making that offer. This way he could have _both_ his revenge and pleasure at the same time.

XxXxX

  
 _What an outrageous man!_ Harry thought, stalking away from Snape’s townhouse, his cheeks reddened by anger. Their first meeting hadn’t boded well for him and their second was even worse. Never had he disliked anyone like Snape before. _He was making a joke out of me!_ The older man must know that he would refuse that offer. That was why he dared to suggest such a thing to him. Harry had been an idiot to believe that he shouldn’t judge the book by its cover, because Snape was just as vile as he looked.

Yes, that must be the reason. To suppose otherwise was unthinkable. Yesterday, Remus Lupin, his late father’s and now his secretary, had warned him that Snape might not think well of him. It wasn’t a secret that Snape hated anyone who was born into nobility.

Not only that, Remus had said that since the first time his father and godfather met Snape on the Hogwarts train, they had taken an instant dislike to him – a sentiment that was shared by Snape as well. And since then, both sides had been trying to get each other expelled from Hogwarts. Given such an unexpected opportunity, Snape probably enjoyed riling up the son of his enemy—shaming him, even—and felt amused at seeing him squirm at the thought of his much needed money dangling out of his grasp.

XxXxX

  
Harry was stunned when a debt collector who met him later that afternoon told him that he owed him three thousand pounds. When the man showed him a letter that bore the seal of Gryffindor, he couldn’t claim that it was a fake. His family signet ring had been held by his uncle when Harry was still underage and that debt was probably incurred at that time. The debt collector threatened to bring the matter to the courts if it wasn’t paid within three days. No doubt it would bring more scandal to his family’s name, and that was the last thing he needed right now.

 _Again, the damned three days’ limit!_ Harry groaned miserably. Three thousand pounds was a lot of money. He didn’t know where to get it so quickly. All that was left to him was the family heirloom and he wanted to avoid pawning it unless it was really necessary. And even if he could pawn it on such short notice, he doubted it would be enough to pay off the rest of his debts.

If all else failed, as the descendant of one of the Founders, he could still stay at Hogwarts and maybe apply for a teaching position there. But what about his people, Muggle and magical alike? How could ever he face his deceased parents if he failed to protect what they had laid down their lives to protect?

XxXxX

  
By the end of the second day, Harry was forced to swallow his pride and run back to Snape’s door. He was praying that the man wasn’t at home as he knocked on the door, hoping that he would somehow come to his senses and go back home.

But it was a futile hope since Mr. Snape was actually at home and permitted him to come in. A self-mocking smile adorned Harry’s lips as he followed after Snape’s butler, who led him to the man’s study. Here he was standing again in the same room, grasping desperately at straws. The older man might ridicule him for coming back again, but he wasn’t going to leave without trying. As much as he hated it, Snape was his last hope. Snape was rich enough to help him and if he could make him see reason, maybe it wouldn’t have to be the end of the Gryffindor estate.

“Lord Gryffindor,” said Snape, acknowledging his presence, as Harry entered the study.

“Mr. Snape,” Harry said, inclining his head politely at him.

“I was led to believe that my offer had been refused,” said Snape with an obvious, cruel, mocking smirk. “Is it _incorrect_ then, my lord?”

Harry felt a surge of hate toward the man and tried to suppress it. Swallowing his pride, he said slowly, “I do apologize for my rude conduct, sir. I was merely shocked… by your bold words.”

Snape’s smirk turned into a tight line; a nerve twitched on the side of his mouth. “Am I to assume that _you_ are blaming me for being the cause of your rude demeanor?”

“No!” said Harry at once, flabbergasted. “No… I mean…”

 _Damned man! Why should he interpret my good intentions like that?_ Harry cursed silently, hating how the other man seemed to disparage him further by saying ‘My lord’ so sarcastically.

Harry cleared his throat and said, “I—I have a proposition for you, Mr. Snape.”

“Proposition?” He saw the speculation in Snape’s dark eyes as the man replied, “You have to excuse my blunt words, my lord. You see… I am a busy man. I hope you’re not going to waste my time more than necessary.”

“No, please,” Harry pleaded. “At least, I want you to read this, sir.”

Harry put the written offer that he and Remus had drawn up on the desk. It contained the distribution of profits and return on loans if Snape decided to place his money in the estate. He shifted nervously on his feet as Snape flipped through the pages.

“Interesting proposition…” Snape mused quietly, his black eyes glittering. “But _I_ do not see why I should invest my money on something that will give me such a small profit as this, when I have received a _better_ proposal from Lord Malfoy.”

Harry’s hopes came crashing down at the mention of Lord Malfoy’s name. The silver-haired lord owned the most successful textile manufacturing facility, powered by the latest machinery. It was a large-scale industry and would bring much more profit than his estate farming plan could offer Snape. He had lost the battle before it began.

Swallowing his disappointment, Harry said bravely, “I understand… I will take back my proposal.” He was reaching for his proposal when Snape’s hand captured his own. He snapped his head up in surprise; his breath caught in his chest when his eyes met the other man’s black ones.

“Our conversation isn’t quite finished yet, my lord,” said Snape.

“What – what do you mean?” Harry gulped nervously; his heart started to pound, not liking the way Snape looked at him. He tried to calmly pull his hand out of the other man’s tight grip.

“My _offer_ still stands,” said Snape in a low voice, his thin mouth curled into a horrible smile.

He had never thought Snape was actually serious about wanting to bed him. Actually, to his horror, the more he thought about it, the more he thought that it wasn’t so bad. He was a man; all that would be lost was his pride, nothing else. He didn’t have to be trapped in a loveless marriage. And most important, his estate would be saved.

Wasn’t he supposed to sow his wild oats before he settled down? He could think of it as just one of his youthful sexual experiences.

But still, his stomach churned uneasily and he felt like he was going to throw up at the thought of being buggered by Snape. Unlike his schoolmates, he had never had sex with anyone before, not even when he accompanied them sneaking out to Hogsmeade to have some fun with the bar wench. He truly believed it was sacred, to be done only under the sanction of marriage.

“I…” But now, to be or not to be, that was the question. He swallowed hard and felt rather like he was receiving a death sentence, as if a noose were tightening around his neck at the inexorable fate. “I… accept,” he choked out with difficulty.

 _“Good,”_ purred Snape, looking pleased by his decision.

His mouth felt sour and his insides turned cold. He felt he might have won the battle but lost the war. Still, he had no time to mourn. He had to get what he needed. That was why he had agreed to such a distasteful deal.

“Only _if_ …” Harry paused briefly, “… if I can have three thousand pounds tomorrow.”

Snape frowned, his eyes boring into him. “Three thousand? That’s _quite_ a sum…”

“I… I need it to settle a debt,” said Harry through gritted teeth, ashamed to admit it to a man he disliked.

Snape stared at him contemplatively, then after a while said coldly, _“Strip.”_

“I beg your pardon?” he said, astonished, wondering whether he had heard wrong.

“How can I inspect the goods without seeing them?” said Snape, making him blush.

 _Bastard!_ Harry wanted to shout at him, clenching his left hand tightly, slightly shaking from anger.

“I am waiting, _Lord Gryffindor_ ,” said Snape.

“Let go of my hand,” said Harry icily at him. “I can’t undress with just one hand, sir.”

XxXxX

  
Severus chuckled silently. He would enjoy breaking Potter in and defiling the last vestige of his innocence. Though, he should clap his hands at the boy’s foolish bravery. Potter should have avoided him at whatever cost and not come flying in like a moth to the flame.

He felt a rush of lust as Potter’s naked body was revealed slowly before him. It wasn’t yet a man’s body; he was definitely at the peak of his youth. His skin was pale, unblemished, with pink nipples that begged to be teased. His cheeks were painted red in shame and anger. Even though there was nothing feminine about Potter, the boy was still a beautiful specimen even compared to a woman.

Leering appreciatively at Potter, his lips twisted into a smirk as he detected a flicker of fear in those green eyes. _Yes, be afraid, little lion, for I am going to be your master._

[](http://www.snapepotterfests.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/Obiskus-1.jpg)

“Kiss me,” ordered Severus.

“You said…” Potter protested.

“Three thousand pounds…” he said slowly and deliberately, leaving the words hanging over them. “Surely, _I_ deserve a taste.”

Severus leaned back on his seat as he watched the boy’s chest rise and fall with restrained emotion.

“Fine,” replied Potter harshly, stepping closer.

Severus was very much amused as Potter bent down and pressed a chaste kiss on his lips. Nothing carnal reflected in it: the kind of kiss one would give to a relative.

“How do you expect to arouse _anyone_ with a kiss like that?” he said, raising his eyebrow mockingly at Potter as the boy pulled back.

Potter didn’t answer him, his head bent in humiliation. Severus’s smirk grew wider. A pity the boy didn’t know this wouldn’t be the last of it.

“A kiss is supposed to be like this.” Severus pulled him closer and pressed his mouth against Potter’s. He held the back of Potter’s neck tightly as the boy struggled against his hold. But he didn’t let him get away and kissed him hard until the boy finally clung to his embrace.

When he finally let Potter go, the boy blinked dazedly at him – his breath came out with a short pant and his lips reddened from their kiss. Flushing, Potter gazed almost shyly at him and looked like someone who had never been kissed before. _And maybe it actually was his first real kiss,_ Severus mused silently.

“Now, let’s see if you’re capable of obeying instruction,” said Severus.

Potter’s green eyes widened as he said in a scandalized tone, “What—what in Merlin’s name are you doing?”

“Oh, I do believe you know,” he said as he deliberately unbuckled his belt and undid the buttons on his pants and pulled them down, then took out his aching, throbbing organ.

Severus ordered him, “Take it into your mouth.”

“What? You can’t be serious!” said Potter, taking a step back, eyeing his hard appendage with a horrified look.

“ _Your_ choice,” snapped Severus impatiently. “I can find a release somewhere else for less money.”

Severus could see that the young man was torn between wanting to run away and staying. But it would seem that Potter would rather be a martyr.

“… I’ll do it,” said Potter quietly, looking very shaken.

“Make me feel good,” said Severus as Potter knelt before him. “Tuck your teeth under your lips, be careful.”

He could feel Potter’s soft sigh on his thigh as the boy tentatively wrapped his shaking hand around his hard shaft then leaned forward and clumsily put the head past his lips.

“Suck it,” he instructed. “Use your tongue.”

Severus didn’t believe even for a moment that Potter enjoyed sucking on his shaft. He heard him choke a few times, his green eyes watering, as he thrust into his mouth. In all truth, Potter wasn’t good at it. Yet there was something strangely arousing about dominating the boy like this.

Potter gagged as Severus came, flooding down into his throat. When he pulled back, the boy threw him a wounded glare, letting out a hacking cough, spitting out his come.

“In bed, you pledge your allegiance to me,” said Severus, pulling him up. “You exist purely for my pleasure.”

When Potter refused to look at him, he held his chin so he was facing him. “You can choose the hard way, or I can make it pleasurable for both of us, _your_ choice.”

XxXxX

  
 _“… your choice”_

Snape’s voice still echoed in his ears when he hurled the contents of his stomach a few blocks away from the man’s townhouse. He felt dirty. He had just sold his body to Snape. The man had yet to bed him and he already shuddered at the thought of doing something more with him. He could finally sympathize with courtesans. Just like him, they had no choice but to sell themselves for money. Never again he would look at them with prejudice.

 _I hate him!_ He thought. Fury and hatred bubbling inside of him seemed to blaze white-hot. He couldn’t forgive Snape ever, knowing that the man had deliberately humiliated him.

XxXxX

  
Remus looked relieved when he heard that Snape had agreed to lend his money to the estate. Seeing the man’s happiness, Harry didn’t have the heart to tell him that the money actually came from selling his body to Snape. His secretary had already suffered much and deserved to be paid for his services. Harry gave him what was left of his reserve money; when Remus refused to take it, he insisted that it was for the sake of his wife and newborn son.

Snape might be a bastard, but he wasn’t a liar. The next morning, three thousand pounds arrived on Harry’s doorstep delivered by the man’s secretary, sealing his fate as the highest paid whore. But deep inside, he couldn’t help but feel a little grateful; he doubted any gentleman he knew would want to pay that much for just performing an awkward, bordering on bad, act of fellatio.

He had expected Snape to summon him immediately but the call never came until a week later, when he was already feeling worried that Snape was bored with him and had changed his mind. He groomed himself carefully in front of the mirror and put on the best suit he had.

 _I’m his whore,_ Harry told himself grimly. _I won’t be surprised at anything that may happen. All I need to care about is how to keep his money securely in my vaults._

But his calm demeanor shattered thirty seconds after he met Snape. The man had also invited Lord Malfoy to dinner. Harry felt he could muster more than enough hate to cast a Cruciatus curse on Snape when the older man hinted about their relationship, after Lord Malfoy had inquired whether he was Snape’s close acquaintance.

 _Merlin, I bloody hate him!_ Harry glared at the older man. Forget about seducing Snape, he barely succeeded controlling his urge not to murder him.

XxXxX

  
 _Bastard!_ Harry thought as their tongues dueled for dominance. He felt the older man’s erection brush against his thigh as Snape pressed their bodies together.

Harry pushed him away, glaring at him. “I won’t be your toy, you hear me, Mr. Snape?”

It had been such a close call tonight. He had yelped quite loudly when Snape’s hand groped his bottom. Thankfully, Lord Malfoy had been too deep in his cups to notice it. As soon as the silver-haired lord had gone home, Snape had molested him right in the game room, not minding if the servants were still around or not.

“Well, well, well… I see you finally grew a backbone while I was away, _my lord,”_ said Snape in a low, mocking voice.

Harry wanted to growl at him. He wasn’t a simpering female to begin with. He was only disconcerted by his first sexual experience. Moreover, it wasn’t like he actually had paraded _without_ clothes for anyone before.

“I want a binding agreement,” he said.

“You learn fast,” said Snape. “Did you come up with this idea yourself, or did someone else?”

“It’s my own idea!” snapped Harry, feeling annoyed.

Was Snape mad or what? Of course, he couldn’t tell anyone about their agreement!

“Impressive,” Snape applauded, his eyes glinting. “So _you_ aren’t just another empty, pretty shell, Lord Gryffindor.”

“I hate you,” mumbled Harry.

Ignoring what he had just said, the man asked, “Aren’t you going to ask about what I will put into the agreement?”

“As long as I can quit anytime I want, it doesn’t matter what you put in it,” said Harry carelessly, crossing his arms.

“You should take more care with it, but… it’s _your_ choice,” said Snape silkily before the man stalked closer and trapped him against the wall. “One rule, your _absolute_ obedience to cater to my needs; if you break it, my lord, then consider our agreement null.”

Harry suppressed his shiver and asked, “The payment?”

“Three thousand pounds a month is acceptable. It will be delivered periodically until you earn my trust,” replied Snape coolly.

“Sounds fair enough to me, Mr. Snape,” said Harry breathlessly, his mind supplying how great a difference that large sum would make in his people’s lives.

XxXxX

  
“No, keep your glasses on,” said Snape as he pushed Harry down into the bed. “I want you to look at me as I take you.”

 _Pervert!_ Harry thought, moaning when Snape closed his fingers about his own hard flesh and his other one worked relentlessly, spreading him inside.

Snape slid his knee between his legs, parting them. The man’s other hand grabbed his bottom, then Harry could hear the man mutter a spell. He let out a surprised gasp as he felt his insides coated with something slicker than the oil that had been used by those fingers before and felt a bit panicked when later something larger than fingers pressed into his back entrance.

Overwhelmed, he felt his breath come in short pants. _Isn’t it a little too fast?_

“Take a deep breath,” said Snape with a strained voice as he slowly slid into him. Harry clawed the bed sheet helplessly at the sensation of being pierced by a long, thick, hot rod. He forced himself to take a deep, steady breath, finding that it helped him to relax his muscles.

Snape drew Harry’s legs up, allowing him to penetrate deeper, making Harry gasp. Snape bent down to kiss him, thrusting his tongue into his mouth.

“Ah!” He cried, tearing his mouth away from Snape as the man pulled out and drove in. The pleasure was slowly building as Snape continued to thrust into him, over and over again. Snape’s hand tweaked his nipple, making him whimper, as Snape gave him pleasure more intense than he could ever bring to himself.

Snape’s black eyes gleamed, darkened with lust and desire. _“Mine,”_ he said, before thrusting faster and harder into Harry, hitting directly against his pleasure spot. Harry cried out when Snape’s hand milked his organ. He arched his body toward the man as they erupted together, feeling the man’s hot seed pouring into him.

He was still breathing hard when Snape finally pulled out of him and slumped on the bed beside him and left him staring at the bed canopy with a pensive look on his face. Snape hadn’t been lying when he had said that sex could be pleasurable for both of them. He had forgotten how wonderful having an orgasm was, after many grueling months struggling with bills and debts. Though he regretted that all of this wasn’t a sincere exchange of pleasure between two lovers, but just a way to get money.

“Get out.”

Confused, Harry blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said, I want you to get out,” said Snape impatiently, reaching for his wand.

He looked at Snape, feeling a bit hurt. He didn’t know whether it was customary or not for the paid bed partner to leave after the sex ended but it was kind of cold, even coming from Snape.

The older man pointed his wand at him and murmured, _“Tergeo.”_

Harry felt the stickiness on his body wiped clean instantly. Snape pointed the wand at himself and murmured the same spell.

“Take the blue bottle on top of the fireplace with you,” said Snape, not moving from the bed.

Harry padded barefoot to the bottle, barely covering himself with the clothes that he picked up from the floor.

“What’s this?” he asked Snape.

“It’s Essence of Dittany,” replied Snape, turning his back to him. “Now, begone. I expect you at the same time tomorrow.”

Harry frowned as he dressed himself, staring at Snape’s back, thinking that he understood nothing of him, not at all. The man was full of contradictions. He had coldly ordered him to get out of his bedroom, yet he had at least courteously cleaned him and given him a rare healing element for his soreness. He shook his head. Why should he care? It wasn’t like it would change the fact that he slept with Snape for his money.

XxXxX

  
The next day, the agreement letter was ready and legally binding – at least in magical terms. It was prepared by a well-known wizard who also worked as a solicitor, since same-gender sexual agreements were forbidden and punishable in the Muggle world.

Soon, it became a daily routine for him, coming to Snape’s house to have sex with the man. It was getting easier as he got used to it. He became familiar with what Snape liked or disliked in bed. But it didn’t mean that he knew Snape any better than the very first day he had met him. He only knew bits and pieces from public rumor of what the man was up to. And he doubted Snape would tell him if he asked whether any rumor was true or not.

Despite that, he knew Snape wasn’t an unreasonable man, nor he was as cruel as he had thought before. Snape was even lenient over some things, such as Harry’s arriving late at Snape’s after attending dinner at Remus’s place.

XxXxX

  
“Godric’s Hollow?” asked Snape when he told him today after they finished.

“Yes, if I have your permission to leave, sir,” answered Harry.

Earlier that morning, Remus had told him that the mill was broken and had to be repaired. He could also use the opportunity of going back to his estate to pay back the money he owed to the villagers.

“I thought that’s supposed to be your estate manager’s job?” said Snape, frowning at him.

Harry felt the blush betraying his embarrassment. But it was better to tell the truth because Snape seemed to have an uncanny ability to detect any lie.

“My _late_ uncle… fired him, sir. He said that he stole the estate’s money.”

He would never know whether it was really true or just an excuse for Vernon to get rid of the old estate manager so he could use the Potters’ family money for himself. Harry scrambled to get the item he had brought with him from the table.

“I do believe you know this, sir,” he said, unraveling the wrappings and carefully putting the silvery grey material on the bed: the Cloak of Invisibility.

His father’s use of this particular item was rather famous at Hogwarts, and from what he'd heard from the professors, it had aided his father in much of his mischief and solidified his reputation as a prankster. And unlike most invisibility cloaks—in themselves rare and valuable—his invisibility cloak didn’t wear out over the years, or at least lose some effectiveness. It endured eternally, giving constant and impenetrable concealment, no matter what spells were cast at it. Created by one of his talented ancestors, the cloak was traditionally passed down from father to son in Gryffindor’s line.

“You can hold onto it until I return to London,” he said quietly, reluctant to be parted from the cloak.

Snape lifted his eyes from the cloak to him but didn’t say anything. They both knew that the cloak meant more than money to him. It was his heritage, the one heirloom aside from his estate that he owned – the last connection he had with his father.

Harry pleaded his case further. “Please, sir. You know that I won’t run away.”

“One month,” said Snape quietly. “If you do not come back before then, consider yourself dismissed, Potter.”

It was better than he could have hoped. Snape was actually willing to let him go away for that long.

“Thank you, sir,” he said gratefully, giving the man his first real smile before turning back and quietly leaving the room.

XxXxX

  
 **A week later**

Harry let his tongue slip out the side of his mouth as he concentrated on hammering nails into the wood frame. He paused briefly to check his work, wiping his sweat with a piece of cloth hanging around his neck. However, the sound of approaching hooves diverted his attention from his task. Apprehension filled him when he lifted his eyes and caught sight of the rider. His eyes met those black ones for a mere second before the rider changed direction and rode straight to where Harry stood. He climbed down the ladder as fast as he could, meeting the rider halfway.

“It’s only been one week,” he jumped quickly to his own defense, feeling bewildered, as the man swung gracefully out of the saddle. “You said…”

“Why, yes, I’m fully aware of what I’ve said, my lord,” interrupted the rider smoothly, taking hold of the horse’s reins.

Harry frowned, feeling upset. Meeting Severus Snape wasn’t exactly what he had envisioned happening today. The man could demand he come back and he wouldn’t be able to refuse him.

“I merely wish to see with my own eyes how my money is spent,” said Snape softly, offering an answer to Harry’s unspoken questions.

“Oh… I—I thought…” Harry paused then rubbed his neck, feeling embarrassed. He didn’t know what he had been thinking to believe Snape was coming to take him back. Clearing his throat, he went on, “Please follow me, then, sir.”

He showed him where he could tether the horse, then led him to the squire’s house, where the children and the women of the village usually gathered together. He briefly explained that the women who gathered there usually spent their day knitting or making rugs for sale.

Harry said in a louder voice to gather his people’s attention, “Everyone…” When they paused in their tasks and stared curiously at them, he went on, “This is Mr. Snape. It’s thanks to him we can rebuild our place.”

There was a chorus of, ”Thank you, Mr. Snape,” from them. Some women even curtsied as best as they could to the stranger.

“Sir, I can show you the rest of Godric’s Hollow,” said Harry, hesitating briefly before he went on, “But… I think it’s better if we do that tomorrow. I’m sure you’re tired from the journey.”

When Snape didn’t answer immediately, but instead scrutinized him with his dark and unfathomable eyes as if seeking something, he flushed slightly, feeling nervous. He wondered if he had some dirt on his face.

“Sir?” he called, trying to get some response from the man.

“Yes, I believe it will do,” said Snape at last.

Harry shifted on his feet and said anxiously, “I still have to fix the orphanage roof… But if you wish, I can take you to the manor first, sir.”

“The same roof I’ve seen you perched upon?” said Snape, sounding somewhat amused.

His face went pink, embarrassed and relieved to find Snape in a good mood. “Yes, sir.”

“Then I’d like to take a good look at this place,” said Snape.

Harry was about to open his mouth to argue that Snape wouldn’t find anything interesting around here, but decided not to. It wasn’t his privilege to decide what the man should do. So he gave Snape a nod.

XxXxX

  
Severus was aware that he was inwardly salivating at the exposed white skin of the boy’s neck under a shirt that wasn’t covered by the usual formal silk cravat. The temptation to kiss and leave a mark of ownership on that skin was very strong. If they were actually alone, he would have already ravished the boy, which was in a sense astonishing for someone like him, who was renowned as cold and heartless.

He had expected that his lust for Potter would slowly begin to wane after the first time he had taken the boy into his bed, that afterwards any courtesan could easily replace the boy. But it would seem that he was wrong.

Potter tasted of innocence and purity. No courtesan could fake that. Nor would they ever be as responsive to his touch as Potter was. And seeing Potter in his element at Godric’s Hollow, he finally understood some part of why Potter was so different from others. If he had never met James Potter and recognized the undeniable resemblance of the late lord to the boy, he might think the boy wasn’t a Potter, much less a lord.

James Potter was the perfect example of an arrogant lord fully aware of his _special_ place. Severus would never catch him dressed shabbily like a commoner or repairing an orphanage roof somewhere in the country in a Muggle way, which was what his son apparently did without even an ounce of shame. Not that it meant that the boy didn’t have manners as perfect as one could expect from a young lord, but it seemed that there was more than just a gentlemanly exterior. He found it to be really intriguing.

“You and our Lord Gryffindor are such a blessing, sir,” said a woman’s voice from his left, interrupting his thought.

“I do not believe I deserve such praise, ma’am,” said Severus, tipping his hat politely to the older woman.

“Oh, but I do believe you deserve it, Mr. Snape,” said the woman. “We’d be utterly ruined by _that_ Muggle relative of our lord, if not for your help.”

“If I might be so bold, madam,” Severus pursued. “You’ve just said ‘Muggle’. Am I right to assume that you are a witch, Mrs…?”

“Augusta Longbottom, sir,” the woman said proudly, “I once attended Hogwarts myself as my son and grandson did.” Without waiting for his answer, she went on, “Do you know that my grandson, Neville, was Lord Gryffindor’s classmate?”

“Ah, I see…” Severus weighed briefly whether he was interested in knowing more. “Well, no, Mrs. Longbottom, I was away from Britain for quite a long time, perhaps… you can enlighten me?”

Only that little encouragement was needed for Mrs. Longbottom to launch into the story of Harry Potter’s life. Mrs. Longbottom seemed eager to tell him how those blasted Muggle guardians had neglected and sometimes abused Potter when he was a mere child, and furthermore spent the Potters’ fortune, leaving nothing for the boy, as they strolled through the woman’s garden which was filled by both magical and non-magical herbs planted by her grandson.

“I tell you, Lord Gryffindor is an angel, sir,” said Mrs. Longbottom. “This place held no happy memories for him. My grandson said that he didn’t need to come back here, but still he came back for us.”

For the first time in his life, Severus actually felt the pangs of conscience for corrupting someone. He had never expected the boy to be so selfless. Hearing of Potter’s unhappy childhood, he couldn’t help but compare it to his own. He was so lost in his thoughts after Mrs. Longbottom left him that he didn’t notice the presence of another person until someone tugged on his trousers. He looked down and his gaze was met by the big, bright brown eyes of a little girl no older than seven.

“Mister,” she said, thrusting a wreath at him. “For you.”

When he tried to take it from her, she shook her head, “No. Lower...”

Severus was stunned. She couldn’t have meant to put it on his head, could she?

The girl tugged his trousers again impatiently. “Hurry.”

“Katie,” chided a woman—the girl’s mother, judging by her likeness—coming closer hurriedly and sending an apologetic look at him. “You don’t have to do it, Mr. Snape.”

“No.” Severus, though he still looked a little troubled, said grudgingly, “It’s… fine.”

Severus bowed slightly, letting the girl put the wreath on his head. To his surprise, the girl also pressed her lips to his cheek.

“Mummy said it’s thanks to you, we have something to eat,” Katie spoke in a clear, bell-like voice, smiling pertly with dimples on her cheeks. “It’s only fair you be the prettiest fairy queen.”

He gawked at being called ‘the prettiest fairy queen’ as she bounced away to her waiting friends.

“Oh, I say…” exclaimed her mother, looking flustered. “I assure you, she meant well, Mr. Snape. It’s just the silly game that the girls usually play, giving the wreath to the chosen girl of the day.”

A nerve twitched on the side of his mouth. Even though he was a bit touched that the girl had signified her highest regard, he still didn’t find the prospect of being called a pretty queen amusing. Something that sounded like a choked laugh came from the neighboring building where Potter was perched.

Woe betide him, his glare only served to make the green-eyed boy howl with even harder laughter, to the point of putting him in danger of falling. Stifling his anger, Severus excused himself and strode to the orphanage.

“You’d better come down before you break your neck, my lord,” he snapped.

“Aye, aye…” Potter said at last, sobering, though those green eyes still sparkled with tears of mirth. “Anything for you, my _pretty_ queen.”

However, any mirth vanished when the ladder broke as Potter stepped on it. His instinct took over as Severus leaped forward and caught Potter before his body slammed to the ground. Potter lay still in his arms, his eyes widened with shock.

“Potter!” Severus growled, his heart pounding hard in his ribs from fear, and his arms aching at the sudden collision. “Of all irresponsible things…!”

Potter frowned at him, recovering from his shock, and protested, “It’s not my fault the ladder broke!”

“You don’t have to be _heroic_ and try to fix the roof by _yourself!_ ” hissed Severus, irritated.

“Who else will do it, then?” said Potter challengingly at him.

“I’m sure you can pay…” said Severus.

Potter cut him off and stressed the words, “With _what,_ if I may know?”

“You can’t possibly be that poor!” said Severus, narrowing his eyes with disbelief.

“But I am, Snape! Isn’t it obvious? I’m dirt-poor!” Potter said grimly, his chest heaving up and down with restrained emotions.

Severus frowned at him. The amount of money he had given to Potter wasn’t small, but it turned out that it still wasn’t enough to enable him to hire a worker. He began to wonder how many debts Vernon Dursley could possibly have owed all these years.

“I don’t want to discuss it,” said Potter with a closed expression. “Can you just put me down? _Please?”_

Due to the shock of watching Potter fall, he had forgotten that he was still holding him bridal style in his arms while they argued. Potter’s body was surprisingly light; even women weighed more. Severus’s frown grew deeper as he made a mental note to stuff the boy with food as soon as they got back to his townhouse.

“Thank you,” said Potter with a sigh when he lowered him to the ground.

Before he could say anything to Potter, a group of children ran toward them and quickly surrounded Potter.

“Harry, are you finished yet?” said a young girl eagerly, tugging on Potter’s hand.

“It’s Lord Gryffindor, stupid,” interrupted one of the older boys. “Mum will box your ears if she hears you call him just Harry.”

She blew a raspberry at the older boy in response. Potter chuckled and put his hand gently on top of her head.

“Yes, I believe I’m finished for today,” said Potter to them.

They shared a look of excitement at each other before chanting together. “Read to us… read to us…”

He saw Potter smile guiltily at them. “Perhaps… another day?”

“But you promised…” said a little boy in a disappointed tone.

Potter bit his lip and looked hesitantly at Snape over the top of the children’s heads, silently asking for permission.

“An hour or two won’t make any difference,” said Severus grudgingly, relenting at those pleading green eyes.

Potter gave him a grateful, bright smile that made Severus’s heart skip a beat and shot a stab of desire right to his groin, making him regret his decision about not keeping the boy for himself.

XxXxX

  
Severus sipped on the herb tea that Mrs. Longbottom offered to him, listening to the old woman’s chatter about Potter. Aside from doing odd jobs around the village, Potter also had been teaching the children – even some adults – how to read and write. And as a reward for their efforts, every week Potter would bring a fairytale picture book from his manor’s library and read it to them.

Judging from the laughter and the full attention the children gave to Potter, Severus could only assume that Potter was a good storyteller. It was apparent on their faces that they adored him. Much to his displeasure, so did a few village girls who kept sneaking glances at Potter.

There was something about Potter that made him so easy to love. Maybe it was the affection and smiles that he freely gave to others. Or maybe it was the boy’s own physical attractiveness: a tousled, windblown black mop of hair that made his fingers itch to bury themselves in it, the clear green eyes that reflected the haunting beauty of the forest, pouty pink lips that begged to be kissed, and a lean body that was perfect to wrap his arms around. Or maybe it was a potent combination of them that made him so irresistible.

Severus observed Potter thoughtfully. _Mrs. Longbottom is right, he is more an angel than he is human._ Remembering the latent sensuality that seemed to radiate from Potter when the boy was furious, he added quietly with an amused smirk, _A flawed, wicked angel is what he is, fallen from heaven to tempt humans to sin._

XxXxX

  
Harry was distracted by Snape’s stare at the back of his head. The accident had exposed him to such close proximity with Snape. It was hard not to remember the night of passion he had spent in Snape’s bed, when he smelled the man’s personal scent of citrus and sandalwood. Even his favorite activity of storytelling couldn’t quell the hot desire that burned through his veins.

He almost sighed with relief when the story came to an end. _So Snape and I can finally…_ His cheeks burned when he realized what he had just thought. He shook his head. It was wrong. He was only a paid bed partner. His need wasn’t supposed to be the important one!

“All right, Harry?” asked the little girl with brown eyes, concerned.

Harry threw a sheepish grin at her. “I’m fine, but thank you, little lady.” She blushed and gave him a bashful, pleased smile.

He got up from the floor and told them that he expected them all to submit the homework he had assigned when they met again next Wednesday. At hearing that, there was a collective groan from the boys.

XxXxX

  
Harry shoved his hands into his pockets as they walked back to where Snape’s horse was tethered.

“Err, I hope it’s all right if we go on foot,” he said nervously to Snape. “I don’t have any horse,” Harry admitted, squirming under the man’s dark gaze. “We could _Apparate_ if you want but…”

“Yes, I agree,” said Snape curtly, since it was forbidden to use magic in the Muggle world due to the Law of Secrecy. “Apparating would be most unwise.”

XxXxX

  
The silence as they walked side by side was almost unbearable. The ground was illuminated by the brilliant orange-red light of the setting sun. Summer breezes occasionally passed over and brought the smell of fresh leaves and grasses. Harry usually enjoyed walking alone on the land that had belonged to his family since the days of his forefathers. Sometimes he even stopped to watch until the sun sank into the earth, replaced by the moon and the tiny sparks of stars.

But today, none of that simple beauty of nature was tangible to him. He was a bag of nerves. He felt he was going to babble nonsensically if he opened his mouth to try to engage the other man in a conversation. He had just realized how much Snape was a stranger to him. In London, most of their time was spent on activity that didn’t require much talking.

He blushed again at the thought. It felt like there was an itch under his skin, making him feel agitated. Never had he thought that one day he would find himself wanting Snape like the older man wanted him, even though it was only physically. Before, he believed that coupling must go hand in hand with love just like the relationship that his parents had shared. But look at where that led him, right into a businesslike, loveless agreement.

He bit his lips as he sneaked a glance at Snape. Of course, he was upset to have his naive belief destroyed so harshly, but that didn’t mean the end of the world, nor it would make him want less to push Snape down and have his way with him.

“Potter, is it still far?” said Snape.

“No, we’re almost there,” Harry replied thickly, silently noting that once again the man didn’t call him by his title, and wondering why he preferred it to be so.

XxXxX

  
It was obvious that the enormous building looming ahead of them was the famous Gryffindor Manor. All the walls surrounding the building were red brick, just as the history books described Gryffindor’s Scarlet Manor. And it was said that once the garden was the most beautiful one in England. But once he had a closer look at it, the illusion was shattered. It would seem that glorious time had long passed. The signs of poverty could be seen practically everywhere.

The supposedly graceful building had lost its luster. The great wrought-iron gates were full of rust. The once evidently meticulously sculpted gardens were overgrown with weeds and vines. The ivy on the walls had grown too wild to be considered fashionable, giving the manor the look of a place that hadn’t been inhabited for a long time. He dared say that it was more suitably referred to as a haunted manor than a place where Gryffindor’s descendant should be living.

He turned to face Potter, disturbed by what he had found. Potter had told him he was poor, but he hadn’t believed the boy actually meant that he was as poor as a church mouse.

“Please, don’t look at me so,” said Potter, giving him a watery smile which wasn’t convincing at all. “It’s nothing.”

Severus raised his eyebrow. How could this be categorized as not bad? How could Potter still smile like that when he was cheated of his birthright?

“I still have a place to rest and food to eat. It would be much worse for those people if not for your help,” said Potter softly. “It’s not much, but we begin to steadily improve.”

 _No, it was not my help,_ was what he wanted to say but kept silent. He doubted he would have given any money out of pure charity if Potter hadn’t bartered himself for his people. He frowned. He didn’t understand how anyone could be as selfless as Potter.

XxXxX

  
He watched Potter open the front door of the manor with a key and raised his eyebrow.

“Err, the last butler fled,” said Potter, apparently feeling that he should give him an explanation, flushing to his ears, looking ashamed. “My uncle’s manner was… a bit too much for him.”

Needless to say, Potter didn’t have any money to hire a new one. That thought didn’t come as a surprise now. Snape could guess how many servants had stayed just by looking at manor’s disordered state. But to have no one to actually open the door for the young lord was simply pitiful.

“For you, sir,” said Potter, passing the key to him.

The key wasn’t like any key Severus had ever seen. It was made from silver with a fine leaf carving that made it looked delicate, and was studded with elfin emeralds. But despite its delicate look, the key was sturdy and seemed to be enchanted to repel dirt: goblin-made, if he was right.

“It’s better for you to use it to get in and out if I’m not at home. There are loads of nasty jinxes for unwanted visitors around the house,” said Potter, shrugging. “One of my ancestors set the enchantment when the Dark Lord came into power.”

“Indeed,” said Severus, pocketing the key. The manor, after all, belonged to one of the oldest and most powerful magical families. It would be better to pay heed to Potter’s warning. He doubted that the spells would stop for the intruder at what Potter had characterized as ‘nasty’. He didn’t envy the fate that awaited those who dared to break into the manor.

XxXxX

  
Inside the manor was only a tad better than the outside. If one were to describe it, the right words would be that the manor was empty. Yes, it was clean, but very empty. A thief could go into the house and not find any precious thing to steal. It seemed almost everything that could be moved had been pawned to pay the debts, leaving only bare necessities.

Potter led him to the sitting room, where the seats were covered in dark red fabric that had faded to a muddy brown that seemed to have been around since the Founders’ time. Instead of sitting, Severus looked out the window with his back to Potter, clasped hands behind his back. It didn’t take long before the housekeeper brought the tea in after Potter pulled on the bell.

He heard Potter say to the housekeeper, “Poppy, Mr. Snape will join us for dinner, and please prepare the silver room for him.”

“Silver room, my lord?” said the housekeeper with a hint of disapproval which made him spare a curious glance at both of them. It was highly unusual for a housekeeper to take such a tone when talking to a member of the nobility, even one who had fallen so far from grace.

“Mr. Snape deserves our best room,” said Potter in a strict tone, warning her that the young lord wouldn’t accept any protest about the matter.

“Right away, my lord,” said the housekeeper, bobbing slightly at Potter, even though a frown was still etched deeply on her forehead.

XxXxX

  
The evening was spent in the sitting room, making small talk about the estate over the tea. Severus would have said it was almost pleasant save for the rock cakes incident. Potter had forgotten to warn him that the rock cakes made by his gamekeeper, Rubeus Hagrid, resembled rocks more than cakes. It was a sheer dumb luck that he didn’t break his teeth when he bit into one.

In his defense, he had travelled far from London and was admittedly feeling quite hungry. The cucumber sandwich he had eaten at Mrs. Longbottom’s wasn’t enough to fill his stomach, rather it made him feel hungrier. Otherwise, he would have had more care than just to eat what was put in front of him without a single doubt.

There was a short silence when his teeth met the cake with a resounding crack before Potter exploded with laughter and offered a quick not-so-earnest apology in between his giggles. He might have pulled Potter onto his lap and given him a thorough, memorable spanking that would warn the boy not to keep laughing at his expense every time something went wrong, if not for the housekeeper who came in to announce that dinner was ready.

However, the dinner was, thankfully, made by the housekeeper, and nothing was more hazardous than the overcooked boiled beef. While it wasn’t what his taste buds preferred, he couldn’t say that it didn’t satisfy his stomach. And truthfully, it wasn’t dinner he craved but the more delicious ‘dessert’ that he had been missing for the past week.

XxXxX

  
Despite its name, the silver room wasn’t dominated by that color. It would have been more appropriate to call it the green room. It made him lift his eyebrow to find a Slytherin color in a Gryffindor manor. Severus had never been interested in studying Wizarding genealogy, so he thought it possible that one of Potter’s ancestors was a Slytherin.

And he finally understood the housekeeper’s objection to the room arrangement. The silver room was originally meant for the mistress of the house and had doors that led to the adjoining master bedroom, which undoubtedly was Potter’s. Unlike other rooms in the manor, it was fully furnished and even though it looked old, no dust was visible.

 _This was where Potter was supposed to take his rich bride to if the boy hadn’t failed so terribly at the courting. This was where Lily once had slept as mistress of the manor._ He was supposed to feel embittered by the fact, but strangely, he felt nothing. Not even the triumphant feeling about having his revenge on her son.

“I… err…” Potter cleared his throat nervously. “If you don’t mind, sir… I’m going to take a bath first.”

Desire was, however, an entirely different matter. The thought of burying himself inside the boy’s tight, exquisite, hot passage aroused him at once. Severus pulled him closer and claimed his lips.

“Make haste,” he said, his breath teasing the boy’s ear.

Potter shivered and blushed in response, then quickly nodded his assent and ran to his own room, leaving Severus to his own devices.

XxXxX

  
Harry slowly got into the tub, waiting for his body temperature to adjust. Sighing softly, he leaned back as he was finally surrounded by the hot water. It was one of life’s pleasures that he allowed himself to have. _Well,_ a _side from sex._

He blushed and lowered himself farther into the tub at that particular thought. Before, he could only imagine why other young men glorified sex so much, but now he had tasted it himself, he could understand how someone could get addicted to it.

Harry blinked as he heard the sound of footsteps coming closer. “Snape…?” he asked, unsure, squinting at the approaching figure. He had put his glasses on the chair near the tub.

“Did you expect anyone else, my lord?” replied the man, raising his eyebrow elegantly.

By now, he could see Snape more clearly. He had taken off his overcoat and was proceeding to remove his black cravat. Harry quickly averted his eyes when Snape didn’t stop at that and began to remove his white linen shirt.

Harry sank still lower. “What – what are you doing?” he choked out, embarrassed. The older man had never removed his clothes before, not even when they had sex. So what had brought the sudden change of heart?

“Obviously, as one should do before taking a bath,” said Snape, sounding amused. “Please do continue, my lord. Do not let my presence bother you.”

His face went pink. It was easier said than done. His eyes kept straying to Snape’s body. He swallowed hard when a pale, well-defined chest came into view.

Harry cleared his throat and said, “There is a similar tub installed in your bathroom.”

“I’m well aware, my lord,” said Snape with a smirk as the last piece of his clothes came off. “But why should we waste hot water more than necessary?”

Harry choked on his own saliva. His guesses were wrong. The reason Snape never took off his clothes had nothing to do with lack of confidence in his own body. He was tall and sinewy and masculine in all the right places. Harry’s heart gave a startled jump when Snape’s legs brushed his own as the man slid into the tub.

Flushing, he quickly drew his legs to his chest. Despite the bathtub’s large size, it clearly wasn’t designed to accommodate two men. It would only take one little move and they would be touching each other directly, skin to skin. He swallowed hard at the thought.

Snape lifted one of his legs and demanded, “Wash me.”

[](http://www.snapepotterfests.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/Obiskus-2.jpg)

Harry blinked at Snape, then realized he might have a valet to do everything for him in London as every gentleman should – except for him. The only person who had bathed him before was his nanny.

“Please…?” Snape added in a cool tone which didn’t sound like someone begging for help.

He shook his head and reached for the soap, quickly lathering it. By Jove, he had slept with the man. Surely he could touch him without blushing like a virgin. If he was feeling a bit faint, it must be because of the hot water.

XxXxX

  
Finished with Snape’s legs, he leaned forward to reach for the man’s hand while trying not to touch him more than necessary. He rubbed the washcloth on Snape’s upper arm and noticed the man had such long fingers. They could be called elegant if not for the old yellowish stain on his fingertips and nails. As he stared at those fingers, he realized it was true what Ron said about how Snape had made his own fortune.

 _Hands of a worker,_ he thought, his eyes fixed on Snape’s hands – rough from blisters, unlike anyone’s he knew. It was only when his lips touched the back of that hand he finally jerked away, shocked. Snape’s face echoed his own surprise. Harry’s first reaction was to run away, embarrassed that he found the man’s hands fascinating, but even that choice was taken away from him as Snape caught his arm and yanked him closer. With a yelp, he landed on top of Snape, making the water overflow from the tub.

Flushing brightly, he tried to push Snape away as the man’s lips touched his. When he didn’t allow Snape to give him a deep kiss, Snape licked Harry’s lips, teasing them with his tongue. Harry froze, transfixed by the bold move. It instantly set his blood on fire, rendering him overcome by lust.

He opened his mouth; his tongue eagerly met Snape’s. He whimpered softly as Snape sucked on his tongue before he moved up to the line of his jaw, then over to his earlobe. He felt the man’s finger dragging across his sensitive nipple, making him moan. It wasn’t until a finger probed at his entrance that he regained some awareness.

“No, we can’t!” At Snape’s frown, he added with an urgent whisper, “Not in here!”

“Potter, you don’t actually think that I’m willing to move it to bed, do you?” The man rubbed his hard shaft on the cleft of his bottom to emphasize his words then wrapped his fingers around his own weeping shaft. “I doubt you can wait either.”

“It’s not…” he moaned and shook his head in disapproval, “… possible.”

“I beg to differ,” said Snape dryly, continuing to stroke him.

“Stop, you’re… distracting me,” said Harry, half-glaring at Snape.

“Ride me…” ordered Snape in a low voice. “Take me inside of you.”

He should be angry to be lorded over like this. But it was a fair game. He desired Snape just as the man desired him. After the initial shock faded, he felt a strange, enticing feeling to know he had this kind of effect on the older man. The evidence, after all, was rather hard to ignore.

His cheeks grew even hotter under Snape’s dark gaze. He moved on top of Snape. His breath caught in his chest as he slowly pushed down onto the man’s hard prick. He winced at the pain of being stretched open. He could only slide down more easily after Snape reached for his wand and muttered a spell.

He was still halfway when Snape tightened his hand on his hips and pushed him down, swallowing the man’s shaft to the hilt in one thrust. He gasped, his toes curling from the unexpected pleasure of the sudden friction.

 _Awful git!_ he thought as he pulled Snape into a vicious kiss.

Only when he started to move did he realize how indecent the sound of water could be. Every time he moved up and down, it splashed against the porcelain tub. If the pleasure weren’t too blinding, he might faint from the sheer shame. Snape grunted and arched his hips up, meeting every thrust. It didn’t take long before he felt the man explode inside of him, soon followed by his own orgasm.

XxXxX

  
Next time Snape suggested bathtub sex, he would firmly refuse the idea. Feeling very dizzy, he slumped into the bed and pressed his face into the coolness of the bed sheet. He felt like a bloody boiled crab. It wouldn’t be strange if he was actually red from the top of his head to his toes because he did really feel so. Hot water and sex were a bad combination, always. Anyone who would dare suggest otherwise should first acquaint themselves with his fist, even if that person was Snape, _especially_ if it was Snape.

His musing was interrupted by soft kisses on his back. He turned around and glared at Snape.

“You can’t possibly…” He fell silent and groaned loudly after spotting Snape’s rather enthusiastic lower appendage. “So fast…? Are you a beast?”

“For someone as young as you, Potter, you certainly lack vigor,” said Snape with a smirk.

“Snape, I’ll have you know I’d rather be an impotent man than a Don Juan,” muttered Harry, earning a chuckle from the other man.

“Perhaps you only _need_ a little encouragement,” said Snape in a low seductive voice that sent shivers down his spine.

XxXxX

  
Harry blinked sleepily. For a moment, he didn’t even know where he was or whose hand was draped across his stomach. His back touched something firm and warm when he tried to move. He looked down at that hand again and puckered his lips as he racked his brain. Those yellowish fingers definitely belonged to Severus Snape. Though why Snape ended up sleeping in the same bed as Harry remained unknown. He didn’t remember much after their third time.

Still staring at that hand, he thought silently that it felt nice, _really_ nice. Poppy was the last person who ever held him like this and that was only the day his parents died.

He sighed softly. Something had changed since Snape had arrived at Godric’s Hollow. In just one day, Snape had let him see a glimpse of the real him beneath his cold facade, far more than in the weeks he had known him in London. To see the man behave around others made him more human, more approachable. So far, he decided that he liked what he found – yes, even Snape’s excessive sexual drive. He closed his eyes and let a small smile grace his lips as the older man’s slow and steady heartbeat lulled him back into the blissful depths of sleep.

XxXxX

  
“Potter…? What are you doing?” asked Snape in a disgruntled tone, his voice rough from sleep.

Harry paused in his attempt to get out of the bed. “I’m sorry, did I wake you? I – er – should check the mill’s restoration.”

“It’s still dark,” Snape pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

He replied, giving him a sheepish smile, “The sun will be up when I reach there; as you know, I have to go on foot.”

Snape sent him a contemplative stare then pulled him back into his arms. “Unacceptable.”

“Snape…!” he protested, half-heartedly trying to squirm away. Even though it was summer, it was still quite cold to be out there this early in the morning. Truthfully, the warm bed was more inviting.

“We can use my horse to get there, no need to go so early, Potter,” said Snape, his voice coming from a spot above his neck.

The image of two full-grown men on one horse made him snort loudly.

“I’m sure your horse will mind the additional weight,” he tried to reason with him.

“A little charm won’t hurt anyone,” said Snape dryly.

Harry chuckled. Who knew that Snape had the personality of a rule-breaker in him!

“Now stop squirming, Potter,” Snape said, delivering a slap to his bottom. “Unless you wish to do something more interesting than sleeping.”

XxXxX

  
Severus suppressed the urge to chuckle when Potter glared at him. Still, he felt mildly disappointed that the boy took his suggestion to heart and ceased his squirming. He felt he would never get enough of him. The boy had always responded to his touch but never had he initiated it; what happened last night was proof that Potter also desired him. The kissing gesture on his hand _was_ clearly unintentional. He didn’t believe that Potter was sly enough to fake it nor did he believe a Crucio would force the boy to do it if he didn’t want to.

It made him feel something akin to happiness for the first time in many years. He felt wanted just being himself. He was fully aware that he wasn’t an attractive man. His only good points were his wealth and the fact that he still had all his teeth and his hair, which wasn’t encouraging at all.

He knew how it felt to be poor and had hated every second of it. Now richer than ever, he still felt just as poor as he had been back then, and just as lonely. Potter had what he didn’t have. In a sense, the boy was richer than he. Potter possessed the kind of heart that accepted every wrongdoing and tried to make the best of everything, of everyone. Severus was the one who gave the money, but he actually was Potter’s charity project. He knew that it was wrong to buy the boy’s kindness. But he didn’t care: not if it would make Potter turn to him, and him only.

XxXxX

  
“A horse?” said Potter, sending him disbelieving look. “You call a creature as beautiful as this one, _a horse?_ ”

“I fail to see that naming it will have an effect on the horse’s efficiency,” said Severus flatly.

Potter shook his head in despair and said to the horse, “Don’t listen to your master, he isn’t serious.”

His horse huffed, pleased by the sugar offering that Potter gave it.

“Hmm, you’re black, how about… Sirius?” asked Potter to the horse.

“No!” snapped Severus at once.

“I think it’s a good name…” said Potter, turning his head slightly toward him.

“Definitely not!” said Severus with a sneer.

“Fine, no need to raise your voice,” grumbled Potter.

Severus’s lips tightened. He would sooner Avada Kedavra himself than have his horse named after that bloody mongrel.

“How about sugar?” Potter said cheerfully.

Severus snorted loudly, “Which part of that animal looks like a _‘sugar’_ ”

Potter crossed his arms. “What would you suggest, then?” the boy said challengingly.

“Harry,” said Severus curtly.

Potter blinked then frowned. “What do you mean by _that?_ ”

“I find ‘Harry’ sufficient,” said Severus, staring at his nails without a care.

“Did you just imply that I…” Potter trailed halfway and blushed, unable to continue his sentence.

 _That you’re beautiful? Indeed I did,_ Severus thought with a pleased smirk that Potter wasn’t a dunderhead as the boy had led him to believe.

XxXxX

  
Harry hadn’t thought Snape would actually have stayed for almost a week now. After all, not many could be seen in Godric’s Hollow and the life in the village was rather slow-paced, unlike in London. But the man didn’t look bored—instead he looked like he enjoyed himself, judging from the ever-present smug look on his face. Snape had taken over his class, leaving him with more time to repair one of the villagers’ home, and successfully intimidated the children. He had never seen them as diligent in class when he was teaching.

Not only that, Snape also bothered to teach the women how to properly pick and dry the wild herbs that would be worth a sum if sold to the pharmacy in town. He wouldn’t be quick to surmise he was a kind person but the man was behaving like a proper adult.

 _And Snape thinks I’m beautiful,_ he thought with a blush.

He should feel insulted to be called beautiful. It didn’t sound manly enough. But no one had ever paid him a compliment before; the closest to praise he’d ever had about his features was how like his father he was and that he had his mother’s brilliant green eyes. Though he was proud to be their son, sometimes he felt insignificant, that he was expected to take the same path as his parents. No one truly saw who he really was, that he was _only_ Harry before he was Lord Gryffindor: simply a young man with his own future and dreams.

He didn’t know exactly when Snape started to see him as other than Lord Gryffindor. But now he saw those dark onyx eyes, he saw only himself reflected in them. No expectation, no judgement. He was free to be himself. It excited him and, at the same time, immensely scared him. He could no longer separate his duty from his feelings and he wasn’t quite sure if he was happy about that.

“Ouch!” Harry sucked his sore thumb and glared at the hammer as though to shift the blame to an inanimate object for his thinking about other things while doing carpentry work.

“M’lord!” shouted a woman desperately, running towards him. “Please, I beg of you! Please help my son!”

“Ma’am, please calm down,” said Harry. “Is there something wrong with your son?”

Tears ran down freely on her cheeks as she sobbed, “My son… he suddenly fell down. I—I don’t know what’s wrong…”

He followed the woman to her home. By the time he arrived there, there already was a crowd gathering. The child was laid on a divan. His face was pale and his body convulsed slightly, appearing to be in great pain. He was also breathing rapidly. His mother knelt beside him at once, holding his hand and stroking his head.

“Has anyone called a doctor yet?” he called out to the crowd.

“Yes, m’lord,” answered one of the men. “My son has gone to the next village to fetch him.”

Harry let out a silent curse as he realized the absurdity of the situation. This wasn’t good. Even at the fastest speed on a horse, it would still be two hours’ travel. It might be too late when the doctor reached this place.

 _Think Harry, think! There must be something that can be done!_

“Snape!” Harry exclaimed suddenly and surprised some of the crowd. “Please get Mr. Snape!”

“Mr. Snape, m’lord?” asked the same man.

Harry nodded and said urgently, “Yes, hurry!”

It didn’t take long before Snape strode straight at him, looking confused, with the other man following behind him.

“Potter, you asked for me?” said Snape. “I’m not a doctor, if the child is sick…”

Harry cut him off, “No time, Snape. Please just take a look at him.”

Snape frowned but then nodded and crouched beside the child. The man placed two fingers in the hollow between the windpipe and the large muscle in the neck where the pulse was, then briefly closed his eyes. Snape’s frown deepened as he opened the child’s mouth with his hand.

“What did he just eat?” asked Snape sharply.

“Eat?” repeated the child’s mother, dumbfounded. “Colin only ate gruel this morning.”

“Impossible,” said Snape. “Your son has been poisoned.” He opened the child’s mouth again. “Do you see the black stain? He must have eaten something besides the gruel, something toxic.”

A little girl gasped loudly at hearing that, attracting their attention.

“You know something,” said Snape, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Snape!” Harry said warningly when the man walked closer to her.

She cowered before Snape’s looming figure. “But—but, it’s only bilberry!” the girl said, shaking her head helplessly.

“Did you have it?” said Snape sternly.

When she didn’t immediately answer, the man repeated the question more forcefully which only served to make her body shake from fear. Looking at how close she was to tears, he knew that he had to intervene. He put his hand on Snape’s back and said, “Snape, leave this to me.”

Snape’s lips thinned in displeasure but he took a step back. Harry said gently to her that no one was blaming her, but it was important for them to know what Colin had eaten.

“Then Colin will be all right?” asked the girl in a small voice.

Harry nodded at her, praying that he wasn’t giving her false hope. That was all the reassurance she needed to run back to her home to get the rest of the fruit. At Snape’s instruction, they moved the boy to Mrs. Longbottom’s place, which had a variety of living apothecary items. The herb drink that Snape had just given the boy made him vomit his stomach contents, much to his mother’s dismay. But the boy did breathe more easily after that, though the fever stayed. Snape told the mother that he couldn’t do more for him unless he knew what precisely he had eaten.

They all felt nervous when Snape inspected the fruit the girl brought back with her.

“This is not bilberry,” Snape stated. It’s called _Hypericum androsaemum_.

At their blank look, Snape added with an impatient sigh, “It’s Tutsan. Its leaves have healing properties. _However,_ the berries are poisonous.”

When the man heard a chorus of ‘Oh’ from the villagers, Snape sent them an unkindly look that seemed to say ‘idiots’. After stating that he would make an antidote, he turned his back on them and left the room.

“Is he a doctor?” whispered the mother.

“Er, no, Mr. Snape isn’t a doctor,” said Harry. At her horror-stricken look, he added quickly, “But he is a pharmacologist.”

“A pharma— _what_?” she said, sounding unsure.

“It means he knows a lot about drugs and poisons,” replied Harry. “Don’t you worry, Mrs. Creevey. Your son is in good hands.”

That was true. While Snape wasn’t a doctor, he was a Potions Master. He had just remembered where he had caught a glimpse of Snape’s name. It was on a book, _Notable Magical Names of Our Time,_ that Hermione forced him and Ron to read. It stated that Severus Snape was the youngest Potions Master of the time.

“Oh, I don’t know, m’lord, Mr. Snape still sounds a lot like a doctor to me,” said Mrs. Creevey stubbornly.

XxXxX

  
Harry saw Snape scowl darkly when the one of the villagers patted his shoulder in a warm gesture. He chuckled. A hex must already be at the tip of Snape’s tongue. But the merriment was understandable. The older man had just saved a child of this village; that meant he was no longer a stranger and had been accepted as one of them.

The doctor, who had come a bit too late, had uttered the most praise of Snape’s treatment of the boy and admitted that even he couldn’t have made an antidote straight away. The old doctor brightened more when he learnt Snape’s name and was only too happy to join the little party for a discussion about a certain vaccine of which – to his surprise – Snape had partaken in the development.

 _Still,_ he mused silently, _Snape is extraordinary._

Snape knew many things that Harry didn’t know and could do many things that Harry couldn’t do. Seeing the man in his element showed that he wasn’t merely older but also wiser. _And a natural recluse at that,_ he thought with a grin as Snape snapped harshly at the young man who had only offered him more ale.

XxXxX

  
Harry was still chuckling when he walked back to the manor with Snape.

“Potter, will you stop that?” growled Snape, irritated.

“You’re so popular, Mr. Snape,” teased Harry.

Snape sneered at him. “You had too much ale.”

“And _you_ had too little,” countered Harry, smiling.

“Someone had to make sure you arrive at home in one piece,” said Snape.

His smile grew wider. “So you’re worried about me, hmm?” said Harry, poking Snape’s chest with his finger.

“More like I worry about your scrawny arse,” said Snape in a matter-of-fact tone, slapping his finger away.

Harry tilted his head and grinned lazily. “Sounds the same to me.”

Just as Snape opened his mouth to reply, the first drop of water fell from the sky, followed rapidly by another. Harry looked at the dark cloud approaching rapidly and the sounds of the thunder rumbling overhead, and realized that it would be mere minutes before the storm swept through Godric’s Hollow. He usually noticed if a storm was coming better than anyone else, but being distracted by today’s excitement, he hadn’t even realized it until now.

“Run, Snape! The storm is coming!” Harry said, instantly sobered, grabbing Snape’s hand.

XxXxX

  
Harry slammed the door behind them, out of breath, then shook his head to shed the excess water from his hair. It was still summer, but whenever it rained at night, the temperature would drop significantly. He was glad they had reached the manor before the storm could reach them. A summer storm at Godric’s Hollow would always be the worst. Even a full-grown man could be lost in it.

A laugh escaped his lips as he looked at his companion. Snape wasn’t faring much better than he. The usually meticulous man, who never allowed his hair or his cravat to be out of place, was looking disheveled. The black ribbon that usually held Snape’s hair was lost when they were running. And the man was soaked from head to toe.

Snape glowered at him, “Potter!”

Harry chewed his lips to prevent himself from sniggering. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly, his eyes bright with mirth. “Come on… Let’s take a bath, Snape.”

He knew what Snape was thinking when he saw those black eyes glint deviously. Rolling his eyes, he muttered, “Separately, Snape… Separately…”

XxXxX

  
There was a sense of peace when Harry leaned into the bathtub, listening to the howling wind and rain that rattled the windowpane. Taking a deep breath, he plunged his head under the water for a moment. He combed his wet hair from his face as he resurfaced. As much he wanted to stay forever in the bath, the water was getting cooler.

He stepped out of the tub, shivering slightly, and took the linen towel he had left on the stool beside the tub. His fingers stumbled over the buttons as he quickly put on his clothes. Even though he had just taken a bath, the cold was already biting at his skin again. He blamed it on the crack in the wall and the scant supply of coal. He silently made a vow to supply more coal for winter – that was, if he had enough money to spare.

He opened the door to Snape’s room. Peering inside, he couldn’t find the older man. Without a moment’s delay, he set off for the library. It was becoming a habit for them to spend their evenings there; Snape would find a thick book to read, while he would do the bookkeeping for the estate and answer letters.

The library had been left as it was because the books in it apparently were charmed so they could only be carried out of the manor by people of Potter’s bloodline. The debt collector had tried to get the precious first edition collections, which were worth quite a sum, only for the books to vanish and come back into the library the same day. They finally gave up on the third try and had designated them as cursed items because they couldn’t provide a better explanation.

Not that he had any objection to the arrangement, because the library had been one of his safe havens when he was young. He couldn’t recall how often he’d had to hide in it to avoid his cousin Dudley’s bullying. It had worked nicely. Never once had Dudley stepped into the library. His brute of a cousin hated books and lessons more than the boiled peas Dudley had flicked at him at dinner.

XxXxX

  
Quickly but carefully, he jogged down the marble staircase, hugging his robe closer to himself in a futile attempt to make himself warm. He wondered what his ancestors were thinking when they chose to build as large manor as this for a home. As far as he knew, the Potter line had never run to big families. His father had been an only son; so had the father of his father.

His ideal for a home was a little bit bigger than Hagrid’s hut.

 _Maybe a child or two,_ he thought, smiling softly, as he stepped into the library, _who will have the same eyes as their father._

 _Wait… Father?_ He repeated the word silently, blinking rapidly.

His smile vanished at once as shock ran through his nerves. He jerked back, breathing abnormally fast, eyeing the door with something akin to what he registered as panic. A mad impulse to bolt out of the room and into the storm struck him—because the children in his imagination didn’t have green eyes and red hair as he had always imagined, instead they had _black_ eyes and _black_ hair.

Had he gone mad? What in Merlin’s name was he thinking? He took a step back as dizziness overwhelmed him. His eyes stared unseeingly at the back of Snape’s head. This feeling he’d had for some time now had a name – to his horror, its name was love.

 _It can’t be… It can’t be… It can’t be…_ The same thought kept repeating in his head. He stiffened. It wasn’t true, he refused to believe it. How could a feeling he’d had for Ginevra for years be replaced by a short term affair with Snape?

Almost as if his feet had a mind of their own, they took a step forward, then another, then another till he was standing right behind the black-haired man. He could see Snape’s posture change, becoming straighter as he noticed Harry’s presence. The urge to wrap his arms around the older man had never been stronger. He just needed to know if it was just his fleeting fancy or a _serious_ one.

“What …?” said Snape, startled. “Potter?”

Burying his face on the older man’s shoulder, he could feel the sudden increase of heartbeat – his and Snape’s – and something that was _more_ than desire. He felt that in this very minute he caught a glimpse of eternity – of something beautiful and precious. It hit him with the force of a bludger that never again would he love another as he loved the black-haired man. Never again would he love so deeply and maddeningly.

“Potter, whatever is the matter?” asked Snape with a frown, intrigued by the silence.

He didn’t reply, instead he let go of Snape. Not heeding the man’s frown, he walked to the fireplace to regain his composure. Tonight was truly a night of madness. Then again, love must have always been some kind of madness, for it had had the power to inspire poets and playwrights for centuries, for it had ruined him for others.

“Potter,” growled Snape impatiently, pulling him onto his lap. “Explain yourself!”

Looking into those deep onyx eyes, he felt desolate. A gentleman didn’t marry his mistress, much less a male one. Theirs wasn’t a bedtime fairy tale. He should know there was no happy ending. The fault was entirely his for not guarding his heart well. If only Snape had stayed a cold-hearted blackguard; after all, how could he possibly fall out of love if the older man kept behaving so wonderfully?

“I…” He put his hands on Snape’s cheeks, making the older man flinch slightly. “I’m…” _In. Love. With. You._ “I’m cold.”

Snape caught his hands with his own and set them down on his lap. “You do not need to emphasize your words by putting your freezing hands on my face. I’m not deaf.”

 _Yes, it’s a madness. I want to possess you._ His heart cried out as he forcefully pushed Snape down onto the sofa. _Mine, you’re mine,_ he thought possessively, _till your desire for me disappears._

“Potter, what exactly are you doing?” said Snape, raising one of his eyebrows elegantly.

“Making myself comfortable,” Harry said with a huff, placing his glasses on the table.

“ _I_ am not your human heater,” said Snape with a sneer.

“You’re _my_ living heater,” replied Harry as haughtily as he could from his position lying on top of Snape’s body. “You’re so bony.”

“I beg your pardon?” said Snape snidely. “I have more flesh than you, Potter.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” said Harry without a care for the older man’s wounded pride, shifting into a new position. “Don’t move! Ah… this is nice.”

XxXxX

  
Severus heard Potter’s soft sigh as the boy buried his head on his chest, “…this is nice.”

For once, he had to agree despite his leg’s awkward position – half-hanging from the sofa. Horrifying as it was, he could see a resemblance between himself and a puppy starving for attention. Lately, it seemed his world revolved around Potter. The sneer and harsh words toward the boy were more force of habit than real annoyance. He liked the feeling of being needed by Potter, even for a ridiculous task such as this one. The boy was too lovable to refuse. He could almost believe they were real lovers when Potter gifted him with his brightest smile.

To some extent, he was sure that Potter liked him in return. But he didn’t have the courage to test the fragile bond they had by asking the boy directly. As for his own feeling, he had realized since the first night he spent in Gryffindor Manor that he liked Potter enough to eclipse his hate and bitterness toward the boy’s parents: enough to grant him the sun and the moon if the boy wished for it. Potter had that much of a hold over his heart.

Severus wrapped his arms around Potter’s lithe body. _Only love me, I’ll treasure you forever._

XxXxX

  
Harry vaguely felt someone shake his shoulder. Regaining consciousness had never been harder. As much as he wished to go back to sleep, the persistent shaking wouldn’t let him. He reluctantly opened his eyes and saw Snape’s concerned face near his own.

“You’re groaning,” said Snape in a matter-of-fact tone.

“I – I am?” croaked Harry weakly.

Snape gave him a curt nod and conjured a glass of water, which he accepted gratefully. He hadn’t realized how parched his throat was. Holding the now empty glass in his hand, he stared uncomprehendingly at the shard of morning light that penetrated the curtain.

“The village!” He suddenly threw himself out of bed, remembering the storm last night, and the possibility of flooding in the village. “I have to…” As he took a step, his legs swayed uncontrollably.

“Potter!” Snape called out, startled, reaching out to steady him, and took the glass from him. Snape narrowed his eyes at him, then put his hand to Harry’s forehead. “You have a fever.”

“I’m all right,” mumbled Harry, pushing him away, trying to reach his boots. “The villagers need me.”

Snape wrestled his boots away from him. “Don’t be unreasonable, Potter!”

Harry glared at him, irritated. His muscles ached from the burning heat of the fever. Didn’t Snape understand? He had to check whether the villagers were safe or not. They were his duty, his responsibility.

“It is within my power to confine you to the bed,” Snape said in a soft voice, his black eyes glinting dangerously. “ _Do not_ tempt me to do it.”

Coming from Snape, he couldn’t just treat them as empty words. He slumped back into the bed, breathing heavily, aware that he was being idiotic. After all, he was exerting every effort to be able to stand upright, let alone walking to the village. If anything, he would probably succeed in breaking his own neck trying to do it. But he _would not_ apologize, not for being concerned over his people.

He scowled and stubbornly turned away from Snape, looking pointedly at the floor. After five minutes that seemed to stretch into eternity, he heard Snape let out a soft sigh.

“Very well, I’ll see what I can do for them,” said the older man, relenting at his childish sulking. “Go take a rest, Potter. I’ll have your housekeeper bring medicine for you.”

Snape’s promise loosened his coiled insides and brought a small smile to his face. The older man was spoiling him, catering to his childish sulking, even when he fully knew that he didn’t have to do it for him.

 _Severus Snape, I knew I loved you for a reason._ Grinning broadly, he wanted to singsong that thought aloud, but decided not to, because he still wasn’t ready to convey his feelings for the man.

“ _Only_ this once,” said Snape, scowling at his grin.

Harry reached for Snape’s hand and brought it to his lips. “Thank you, Snape,” he said softly, pleased to see reddish spots appear on the man’s high cheekbones.

XxXxX

  
It was already noon when he awoke for the second time. The wet towel on his forehead had gone warm again from his body heat. And even though Poppy had made him take her homemade fever remedy, he was feeling rather worse than this morning. Every part of his body felt terribly hot. It felt like being scorched alive from the inside. Even such a simple task as rolling to the other side of the bed was making him grimace with pain.

Soft noises from behind the door that joined his and Snape’s rooms caught his attention. Unable to go back to sleep, Harry groped for his glasses. Putting them on, he sluggishly got up, wincing as he did it, then walked to the door to find out what had been happening.

Peering from the open door, he called out in a hoarse voice, “Snape…?”

Hearing his voice, the older man lifted his head from what looked like a bubbling cauldron.

Snape scolded him, “Potter, you shouldn’t be out of bed!”

“I know… I…” A teardrop ran down his cheek, followed by another. His tear ducts seemed to be incapable of restraining them from flooding down. Snape froze, sending a horrified, helpless look at him.

Pursing his lips in annoyance, Harry tried to explain, “I’m not crying, it just… feels so hot. I—I can’t sleep. Can I stay in here?”

He felt really wretched and tired. He didn’t want to be alone, not when he was like this.

Snape hesitated for a mere second before saying, “Fine, lie on the bed. I’m almost finished with your potion.”

Wiping his tears, Harry nodded meekly. It was kind of reassuring knowing that Snape was making a potion for his ailment. He walked to the bed and climbed into it. Snuggling himself under the covers, he closely observed Snape as he prepared the potion. He wasn’t fond of Potions class, not liking the mingling of dungeon damp smell and the fumes from the potions, but now there was something strangely calming as he listened to the bubbling cauldron.

“How about the villagers?” he asked quietly.

Without looking at him, Snape replied that the damage wasn’t extensive and could be handled by the villagers, aside from the old bridge connecting Godric’s Hollow to the neighboring village, which had been washed away by the strong current.

XxXxX

  
Harry didn’t realize he had dozed off till a cold hand on his forehead startled him awake. As gently as he could, Snape helped him into a sitting position, then gave him a rather suspicious-looking, foul-smelling concoction.

“What is this made from?” he asked sheepishly, looking at the older man.

Snape’s face turned blank as if to say, ‘you don’t want to know’. And maybe it _was_ better for his sake if he didn’t know the ingredients, so he didn’t dare ask further. He dutifully drank it all, only cringing a little at the aftertaste, then muttered his thanks. He quickly grabbed Snape’s hand before he could leave. “Stay with me, please?”

“Wouldn’t it be too uncomfortable for you?” said Snape.

“Honestly, I’d feel better if you stay, Snape,” he replied, unable to keep the pleading tone from his voice.

XxXxX

  
When Severus had come back from the village, it had been clear that the remedy Poppy had given the boy wasn’t enough to cure the fever. It seemed that Potter was still very ill, if not worse than when he had left the manor. Harry having drifted off into a fitful sleep, his usually pale cheeks were painted apple-red. And the uneven breath had given away how much the fever had worsened. Irrational fear had gripped Snape’s heart, fearing that Potter would never wake again.

That was before logic shoved its way into his mind. He should do something for Potter rather than just standing like a moron beside the boy’s bed. For Merlin’s sake, he wasn’t a Potions Master for nothing!

But now that he had done what he could do, he couldn’t refuse Potter’s request. And truth be told, all he really wanted was to stay by the boy’s side.

“I need to take off my boots,” he replied matter-of-factly.

Nodding, Potter let his hand go. Severus made quick work of his boots, then slid into the bed. He raised his hand to check on Potter’s fever and was relieved to find that it was slowly going down. As expected, the potion had worked fast.

He slowly stroked the boy’s damp, unruly black hair. Truthfully, he wasn’t used to doting on someone like this, nor did he think he was gentle enough to do it. But he hated seeing Potter’s suffering. The boy’s pain was his pain. At least he knew that much.

Potter suddenly spoke. “Is it true?”

Severus raised his eyebrow at him. The boy wasn’t making any sense.

“Did you really cut off the fingers of the man who stole from you?” continued Potter.

Severus raised his other eyebrow at the sudden turn of the conversation and said in a mocking tone, “ _Why?_ Does it offend your delicate sensibilities to share a bed with someone like me, my lord?”

“No, I assure you there is nothing _delicate_ about me, sir,” replied Potter dryly, stressing the word, looking straight into his eyes. “Besides… I’m only curious.”

Severus snorted. He had never particularly cared about the gossip that was circulating among the upper class. That didn’t mean he wasn’t aware that he was being painted as a scoundrel. If he wasn’t eminently rich, he knew they would never welcome him into their crème de la crème society and he knew many of them still viewed him as parvenu. But other than his green-eyed lover, no one was bold enough to ask him to his face.

“Have you ever heard ‘curiosity killed the cat’?” teased Severus.

Potter huffed contemptuously and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You’re an infuriating man, Mr. Snape!”

“Back to Mr. Snape, are we?” Severus said dryly.

“Really, a simple yes or no would suffice, but you just have to be incorrigible!” said Potter, scoffing.

A little smile twisted Severus’s mouth. ‘His Harry’ was very easy to bait. If he didn’t like it, he would say he didn’t like it, without pretence. That was why the boy was so appealing to him.

“You’re smiling!” Potter exclaimed, sounding astonished.

His smile froze on his lips and quickly vanished. He rarely put his smile to good use, but was it really that strange for him to smile?

“No, no…!” Potter leaned forward, crouching in front of him, sounding disappointed. Severus felt the boy’s hands grasping both sides of his face. Puffing his cheeks, the boy said, “Smile again, will you?”

The sheer desperation he could hear in Potter’s voice and the ludicrous face the boy put on made something bubble in his chest and then went up, tickling the back of his throat. Severus threw his head back and laughed heartily for the first time in many years. When it finally subsided, he noticed Potter was looking at him with a tender gaze.

Severus could feel Potter’s thumbs caressing his cheeks. Then the boy pressed his forehead against his own, closing his eyes, and murmured, “It’s… beautiful. I like the sound of your laugh, Severus.”

Severus almost didn’t dare take a breath, as if that would destroy the precious moment. Those words had touched the deepest recess of his heart, that he hadn’t known existed before. And heaven forbid that Potter had turned him into a sentimental nincompoop, but he knew he would remember this moment till his last breath.

XxXxX

  
Two days later, Harry rapped his knuckles on the door, shifting on his feet impatiently. “Snape, are you ready yet?” he asked loudly.

The door was suddenly wrenched open roughly, and Snape appeared before him with a displeased scowl. Grinning, Harry walked up to him and pecked the man on the cheek, then grabbed his hand.

“Let’s go,” he exclaimed cheerfully.

XxXxX

  
Harry dragged his frowning lover out of the manor with unsuppressed excitement. For the past two days, everyone had been treating him like an invalid. He shouldn’t do this, he shouldn’t do that. Even though he appreciated their concern, it was suffocating. Even lifting a book was considered a rigorous action. With the exception of the letter about arranging the bridge’s repair that he’d written to Remus, he had done practically nothing. If boredom could kill, he’d probably be long gone, expired from it.

But at long last he was deemed healthy enough to go to church today, and later to picnic with Snape. Poppy had said that getting fresh air would do him good. As to that, he agreed whole-heartedly with her. A wave of exhilaration swept through him as he remembered the ‘surprise’ he had planned for the man. He really hoped Snape would like it.

XxXxX

  
Harry stifled a yawn, for it would not do to show disrespect to the vicar. But the old man’s sermon was as boring as usual. He found himself slipping into a daydream about the things he and Snape would do after the morning service was over.

“Potter,” whispered Snape.

“Yes?” he replied.

“I do not see any reason for you to attend this service, you _obviously_ don’t seem to be overjoyed listening to the vicar,” deadpanned Snape.

His face flushed as he wondered whether it was really apparent to others that he felt bored or it was only Snape who noticed. When the man raised his eyebrow at his reaction, he felt the need to defend himself and answered, “Err… Because if I didn’t, the villagers would think that I disapprove of him as our vicar.”

Snape cast an assessing glance at the vicar before wrinkling his nose as if what he found was distasteful. “That’s… _ridiculous_.”

An abrupt giggle escaped his lips at the sight of Snape wrinkling his nose. For a moment, he was thrown back to the past. His godfather, Sirius, also thought that attending the boring sermon was _ridiculous_. When he was little, every time they went to the church the older man would wink at him and secretly pass the mint candy he had brought for him – to alleviate his suffering, he jokingly said – which he happily chewed on while the vicar was talking about humanity’s sin—well… precisely gluttony, much to his mother’s dismay.

Stifling his giggle, he lightly shook his head. Snape would probably get mad at him if he pointed out the similarity between the man and his godfather. A throat-clearing cough interrupted his thoughts. Now aware of the glare the vicar was throwing at him, he straightened his back, schooling his face to a solemn expression as if showing his regret for interrupting the sermon, and tried not to glare at the clearly smirking man who sat beside him!

XxXxX

  
“I do say you have a sense of humor, Mr. Snape,” said Harry after the morning service was over and they were away from the well-wishing villagers.

“You were saying?” said Snape, sounding amused.

“Yes, though it isn’t well-placed, sir!” stated Harry seriously.

Seeing the man’s smirk grow wider, Harry added, “You’re incorrigible to make me laugh in the middle of the sermon, Snape. Look at where it led me! The vicar isn’t going to forgive me anytime soon, you see…”

“I have to admit I’ve been called much worse before,” replied Snape dryly, without an ounce of remorse.

Shaking his head in disbelief, he replied, “As deplorable as you are, Snape, I refuse to believe that your soul can’t be redeemed.”

“Oh?” said Snape, raising his eyebrow. “What makes you think that what I want is salvation, my lord?”

“I just know,” said Harry with a grin.

“You just… _know?_ ” Snape let out a loud snort of disbelief.

“Look! We almost there!” replied Harry, in attempt to divert their conversation.

XxXxX

  
Severus snorted. Potter had been a boundless ball of energy since he woke up this morning. As annoying as it was, he understood why Potter was in high spirits. Just like the boy, he, too, had suffered in the past two days. While he wasn’t surprised that the boy’s housekeeper had sniffed out their true relationship, he was vexed at being forced to comply with the old woman’s protective streak. It wasn’t as if he was a cur who would force himself on Potter when he knew the boy wasn’t in good health. He was a grown man, perfectly capable of abstinence. It was just that the old woman grated badly on his nerves by circling like a hawk every time he came near Potter.

“Follow me, Snape!” said Potter before disappearing into the trees.

And follow the boy, he did. They went deeper and deeper into the forest that surrounded Godric’s Hollow. Glancing briefly at his surroundings, he found this was different from the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts. The trees in here were much younger, and the animals seemed harmless enough. But the path that Potter had taken apparently wasn’t one used by humans. Soon, he was breathing heavily, struggling to catch up with the boy.

For someone who had just recovered from a severe fever, Potter was unexpectedly light and nimble on his feet. Enclosed by trees and more trees, Severus felt like he was lost in a storybook, chasing a white rabbit. It wasn’t helping that Potter flitted in and out of his view, shouting joyfully, “Quickly, quickly!”

Next time, he swore, he would think twice before agreeing to go on a picnic with Potter. Then, when he’d almost decided to refuse to take another step, the trees began to grow sparse. It was brighter and looked like they were almost out of the woods. But Potter was nowhere to be seen. Quickening his pace, he stepped out of the woods.

“Potter!” Severus called out loudly, squinting at the sudden brightness.

“Here, Snape!” replied Potter from the middle of the vastness of a meadow. “Look, isn’t it perfect?”

The clear blue sky contrasting with yellow and white flowers filled his vision. It was a stunning view, but even more so, the person who was standing in the center of it all: messy wind-tousled black hair, eyes greener than any grasses, and a bright smile that rivaled the sun.

A wind suddenly swept through the meadow. The sweet smell of the flowers saturated his senses as he stared, helplessly enchanted by the surreality of it. His mind brought forth one of Shakespeare’s sonnets that he had found excessively sentimental, but somehow perfectly fit with this.

 _Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?_  
Thou art more lovely and more temperate;  
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,  
And summer's lease hath all too short a date;  
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,  
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;  
And every fair from fair sometime declines,  
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;  
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,  
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;  
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,  
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st:  
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,  
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

“Don’t just stand there,” called Potter, breaking the spell that was holding him. “Come and join me!”

Severus hesitated. His place wasn’t in the light in which Potter belonged, it would never be. But as though Potter sensed his need to pull away, the boy came closer and dragged him into the meadow.

“Come on, lie down!” said Potter as if it were the most common thing to do.

“I beg your pardon?” Severus said, frowning.

Potter harrumphed in frustration, then with a mischievous grin that made Snape wary, walked closer and tackled him to the ground. Severus felt his breath knocked out of his body as Potter landed on top of him.

Mind reeling from the impact, Severus growled, “Potter! Whatever do you think you’re doing?”

“Teaching you the pleasures of life,” said Potter plainly.

Severus said sarcastically, “Then would you explain which part of tackling me to the ground would teach me the pleasures of life?”

Potter pressed his forefinger to his lips. “Shh… Can’t you hear it?”

Severus gave Potter a cold, hard stare as a response to the boy’s latest foolishness.

“Close your eyes and take a deep breath,” said Potter, who rolled aside then lay on his back and closed his own eyes.

“Sometimes…” said Potter after a brief silence, a peaceful look settled on his face, “when I listen carefully, I can almost hear the earth itself… and the wind, and butterflies.”

Severus let out a loud snort. “That’s nonsense.”

Potter opened his eyes, his green eyes flashing with annoyance. “You really have no imagination, Snape. It was supposed to help you to relax,” protested the boy.

Severus crossed his arms in defiance. Oh, he did have imagination. Only that included a vision of his green-eyed lover lying naked in this yellow-and-white daisy meadow. And the breathing advice wasn’t going to help him to relax. In fact, it only served to make him hard. How he was supposed to relax when the whole bloody meadow smelt so sweetly like his lover?

“This isn’t going to work,” mumbled Potter, looking upset. “I—I just thought you might like this place.”

Turning his head, Severus looked closely at his lover and investigated his motive for inviting him here. As strange as it was, it seemed that Potter deemed he was worthy of sharing the boy’s private place. And if it wasn’t just his wishful thought, by inviting him in this place, Potter had declared louder than any words could express that he was special, too. That thought softened his frown.

Maybe, he pondered quietly, Potter smelt like this place because he always kept a piece of it inside of him, or maybe it was the other way round: that the boy left a piece of himself in here. But either way, both had attracted him.

“You’re wrong,” said Severus softly, feeling a small smile forming on his lips. “It’s not that I dislike this place.”

Pulling Potter into his embrace, he claimed the boy’s lips. Lingering only briefly, he slipped his knee between Potter’s legs and shamelessly pressed his hardness against his thigh.

“You see, I like it _too_ much,” he said in a low voice, murmuring in the boy’s ear. “These flowers... they smell like you.”

Potter’s lips formed an ‘O’ and his face turned scarlet.

Clearing his throat, the boy asked shyly, “They—they smell like me?”

“ _Indeed,_ maddeningly so,” remarked Severus with a smirk before claiming his lover’s lips again.

This time Potter kissed him back, his lips parted, welcoming him into his velvet sweetness. Groaning, he devoured what was freely offered to him. He trailed his fingers down, exploring the soft thighs. Reaching higher, he slid his hand into the boy’s pants.

Potter wrenched his mouth away with a gasp and spoke urgently, “We can’t… Not outside here! Someone might see…”

Anyone else may go to the devil, was the first thought that passed his mind, but then Severus realized that he was being irresponsible and reckless. Besides, he didn’t actually want to share the view of his lover’s delicious body with anyone else.

Taking his wand out, Severus stood up and murmured incantations, _“Repello Muggletum… Protego totalum… Cave inimicum… Muffliato…_

Potter, who certainly felt the disturbances in the surrounding air, asked curiously, “I don’t know the last one, what is that spell for?”

“So they won’t hear us,” replied Severus, slipping his wand into a fold of his jacket.

Beaming, Potter said, “That’s brilliant!”

And that being said, Potter rose into a kneeling position and boldly touched the tenting front of Snape’s trousers, making him unable to utter any coherent reply.

Smiling seductively, the boy said, “I think you deserve a reward for your efforts, Mr. Snape.”

Severus felt his breath caught in his chest as he watched Potter unbutton his trousers. When his flies sagged open, the boy slid his hand into his smallclothes. He tried to choke back his moan but was not quite successful. At this point, his brain was rendered useless. Like every man on earth, he couldn’t help but be a slave to his desire.

Potter tugged his smallclothes down, revealing his proud and erect shaft. Those green eyes stared hungrily at it. He could feel the boy’s fingers wrapped about his width, experimentally squeezing it. His hard shaft twitched and moisture seeped from the head.

“Potter, stop,” he said with difficulty, trying not to come right away.

It was only been two days since the last time he held the boy. But he wanted him so much that he would explode at the slightest touch.

Licking his lips, his green-eyed lover said huskily, “I want to taste you, Severus. I want to suck you until you come in my mouth.”

Severus groaned. He’d never heard his lover talk dirty before. It made him swell harder than he ever had before.

He cursed, “Impertinent brat!”

“Is that a ‘ _no_ ’?” Potter asked with a not-so-innocent smile.

“You know bloody well I can’t say no, Potter!” he hissed irritably at the boy. “Take me into your mouth. Make me come.”

“With pleasure,” said Potter with a smirk worthy of a Slytherin, taking Severus’s aching appendage into his wet hot mouth.

Severus closed his eyes as the sudden pleasure assaulted his nerves. Potter sucked on the head, lapping at the trickle of pre-come before he dragged his tongue down, making his belly tighten with pleasure. Then his lover’s mouth began going up and down on his shaft, swallowing him greedily, while making a humming down in his throat as if he was purring with delight. That made an onslaught of pleasure course through his body. His body jerked forward as he felt the first signs of his impending orgasm. He had barely choked out a fair warning to his lover when his body had gone rigid, finally reaching completion, emptying his come onto his lover’s waiting mouth.

Momentarily weakened, he fell on his knees. A smile on Potter’s lips was echoed by his own. It wasn’t clear anymore who dominated whom. But he no longer cared about that. He gently wiped the moisture that trickled down his lover’s jaw with his knuckle. Capturing his hand, Potter brought it closer to his mouth as his pink tongue darted out to lick the moisture off the knuckle.

Severus felt his jaw drop open. Composure was briefly forgotten at the obscene sight. He knew he had a greater sexual appetite than most men of his age, but right now he might have broken the world record by getting so quickly aroused again. His green-eyed angel was a damned tease!

With a growl worthy of a cave man, he got up and threw Potter over his shoulder, making the boy cry out in surprise, and made his way to the cedar tree. Despite his urgent need, he didn’t wish for them to be caught in an uncomfortable situation. Along the way, the boy kept laughing merrily from atop his shoulder. When his lover wouldn’t stop wriggling, he slapped the boy’s tempting bottom for good measure.

“Don’t move, Potter. I might drop you,” warned Severus, his hand resting on Potter’s soft, curvy bottom.

His green-eyed lover chuckled. “I wouldn’t if you didn’t keep molesting my arse, Mr. Snape.”

“Believe me, it’s only the beginning,” said Severus, smirking. “I assure you, my lord, you’ll enjoy it so much that you’ll beg for more.”

“Such arrogance, Mr. Snape!” said Potter, grinning. “But I’ll take your word, and see if it’s really true!”

XxXxX

  
After their rigorous and not-so-innocent exercise, he and Snape had ravenously wiped out the beef and cucumber sandwiches that Poppy had placed in their picnic basket. The cider they shared afterwards was making him feel sated and full as he sat under the cedar tree with his back against Snape’s chest, listening to the steady thud of the older man’s heart, while Snape’s hand circled his waist.

All he could think was that this was the very epitome of happiness itself. He wasn’t gullible enough to believe it would last forever. But a human was really a greedy creature. Once one had tasted something better, he wouldn’t want to accept anything less. Now the beauty of this meadow alone wouldn’t make him feel content anymore, not without Snape’s presence beside him.

His expression grew somber at the thought. If he was fortunate, he would be able to stay beside Snape for a few years before the man got bored with him. And aside from that, he still didn’t understand why Snape chose him, of all people, to be his ‘mistress’. Of course, it wasn’t like he didn’t have some suspicions about it. But after he realized his feelings for the man, those suspicions were hovering threateningly at the back of his mind, making his stomach churn every time he was left alone with his thoughts.

A furtive glance at Snape told him that the man was in a good mood. There was no better time than right now if he ever wanted his worries to be assuaged.

“Snape,” he started out quietly, slightly tilting his head to look at the older man. “You know… you never answered my question about the man who stole from you.”

“You do not know how to give up, do you?” he heard the older man say in a dry tone.

“Well, won’t you answer it?” he said as their gazes met.

“Potter, you and all those people…” Snape let out a snort. “It wasn’t such a novelty as you imagined. I handed him over to the authorities and let them sort it out.”

After coming to know Snape better, he could have already guessed that the rumor was false and was glad now to know it was untrue. Actually, he had only been testing the waters. The next move was going to be the difficult first step of digging out the truth.

“I… I have some questions, Snape,” he said, inwardly wincing at his own impetuous voice. “Will you give me a truthful answer?”

Snape looked deep into his eyes before saying, “It depends on the question you ask.”

 _Well, it was good enough then,_ he thought. He couldn’t take the risk without making the man annoyed with him if he wanted to find the answer.

Gathering his courage, he asked with a strained voice, “Do you – no, _did_ you ever love my father?”

 _“Who?”_ Snape sounded taken aback by his question, disbelief openly coloring the man’s voice. “James Potter…?”

“So did you love him?” he demanded.

“Of course not!” Snape snapped harshly, looking positively ill. “ _How_ in the name of Merlin did you come to that conclusion, Potter?”

He blinked at hearing Snape’s disgruntled tone. He was aware that the possibility Snape loved his father was very small – practically non-existent – but everyone kept saying that he was a perfect copy of his father. So why wouldn’t he be suspicious about it? And if Snape didn’t love his father, then…

“Did you love my mother?” he said, his brows drawn together so tightly that it was making his head ache.

There wasn’t any reply from Snape this time. In fact, he could see the man’s jaw tighten at this question, confirming his suspicion. It sent searing pain through his chest and every breath he took sent another throbbing pain into his heart.

Swallowing the hurt he felt, he went on, “Did you sleep with me out of revenge?”

Again, Snape didn’t answer. But the grim expression on the older man’s face could only mean it was true. He felt like something stuck in the back of his throat began to choke him. It took more than a few moments for him to finally regain his voice again. But he could not stop now, he needed to know or it would always haunt him.

“Am I…” His voice faltered as hot tears threatened to fall. “Am I just a replacement for my mother?”

Through his blurry eyes, he saw the man’s mouth fall open.

“No!” said Snape sharply, taking hold of his wrists. “Potter, I have _never_ thought of you – _not even once_ – as a replacement for anyone!”

Feeling relieved and oddly numb, he let a lone tear escape the corner of his eye.

“Don’t cry,” Snape said in a harsh rasping sound as the man touched the back of his head and pulled him into his chest. “I can’t bear to see you crying.”

He nodded, burying his head closer in attempt to stop his falling tears. Despite everything, he believed that Snape had grown to care about him. Maybe not enough to love him, but it felt like a lot more than desire. Otherwise, the older man wouldn’t have bothered answering his last question. And for now, that was enough for him. He had long ago learnt that brooding and moaning about the unfairness of life wouldn’t get him anywhere. After all, if he cried every time something bad happened, he’d probably be blind by now.

Harry breathed through his nose and out through his mouth, and repeated that again and again until he could no longer feel the urge to cry. When he finally felt steady enough, he pushed himself away from Snape and rose to his feet.

“We should get back now, don’t you think?” he said, patting his trousers. “It’s growing late.”

Snape frowned at him, puzzled by the sudden avoidance of the topic. “Pott—Harry…”

“I’m fine, Snape,” he said softly but his eyes were stern, leaving no room for protest.

He could tell that Snape was clearly unconvinced by his words, but the man rose to his feet after him.

“Next time, we should go to the river,” he said, trying to lighten the bleak mood, as he folded the thick blanket they had sat on. “Godric’s Hollow usually has an excellent supply of trout, especially in the summer.”

Seeing the concerned look Snape threw at him, he could feel a small smile forming on his lips, feeling somewhat amused. Stranger things did happen. Snape appeared to be more disturbed by the whole affair than he. And he found it sort of endearing in its own way.

Closing the distance between them, he entwined Snape’s hand with his own.

“I’m fine…” _I do think I really am._ “Come on, let’s go back.”

XxXxX

  
Snape had only been gone for one night and Harry was already missing his presence. Yesterday, when he and Snape got back from their picnic, a messenger had arrived with an urgent missive. It appeared there was some trouble with Snape’s company’s shipping. Seeing that the matter could only be handled by Snape, the man had to leave immediately.

But Harry didn’t leave with him because he still had two weeks to stay in Godric’s Hollow, as Snape kindly reminded him. Actually, Snape had said that he might as well enjoy his ‘free’ time since he wouldn’t be so generous as to let him live apart from him anymore. If Snape had meant to make him angry by saying that, he was terribly unsuccessful. As a matter of fact, he felt very happy to hear how much Snape needed him. The selfish part of him was still hoping that Snape would fall for him.

And so that was why he stayed in Godric’s Hollow, doing his daily activities as usual, and kept forgetting that Snape wasn’t there with him.

“Mr. Snape isn’t here, my lord,” one of the older women gently reminded him.

Blushing, Harry rubbed his nose. He was so used to asking the man’s opinion on many things that his name just slipped out of his mouth without thinking.

XxXxX

  
And even the meals and the bed didn’t feel the same without Snape. He had always been an only child and spent most of his life being ignored by his relatives. He should have been used to loneliness, but now he found it almost unbearable.

When the next morning came, he started to doubt his own reason for staying. He hadn’t rested so well last night, as he unconsciously kept searching for the body heat that he had come to know by heart. He didn’t expect that, in leaving, Snape would take half of his soul and mind with him, making him somehow an incomplete being. So he asked himself, would it be so embarrassing if he suddenly showed up at Snape’s door?

A sudden knock startled him. He heard his housekeeper’s voice from behind the closed door. “My lord, there are visitors who want to see you: Madam Ronald Weasley and the Honourable Ginevra Weasley. Shall I show them to the drawing room?”

His jaw fell open in surprise. He had thought Ginevra would never see him again after he broke her heart.

“My lord?” prodded his housekeeper, sounded worried.

“Err, yes, Poppy, please let them in,” he said as he scrambled out of bed and quickly dressed himself.

XxXxX

  
Hoping he was presentable, Harry walked into the drawing room. A tentative smile graced his lips as he looked at the women he had known well for years. He was slightly wary at the sudden visit. Ginevra hadn’t been on speaking terms with him after they separated. Though he was relieved that Molly Weasley wasn’t present at the moment; it had been an awkward matter after he and Ginevra separated.

“Ginevra,” Harry greeted them politely, “Hermione, what a pleasant surprise.”

Hermione spoke first, giving him a peck on his cheek. “Harry! How are you?”

“I’m fine—well, more than fine, actually,” he replied with a grin. “I trust you both are fine as well?”

“We’re fine, my lord,” said Ginny, dropping a slight curtsy.

“Ah… We’re in the country. Let’s- er- not be so formal,” he said, feeling awkward.

Ginevra’s face broke into a smile that he might have found attractive before. Her beauty was as radiant as always with her flowing red hair, fair skin, and bright brown eyes, but it didn’t set his heart pounding nor did it make him yearn for her anymore. He had to admit it was quite strange to feel nothing more for her than his friend’s little sister. After all, only a few months ago he had thought of her as someone that he’d like to marry someday.

XxXxX

  
Apparently, they had come to tell him that Hermione was now Madam Ronald Weasley. Hermione apologized that he hadn’t been invited to their wedding. With talk that indicated he might be a godfather next summer, he could guess the reason behind the hurry. And really, he couldn’t blame them. He had always known that it would happen sooner rather than later when seeing the gazes that Ron sent at her.

Then another apology was offered because Ron couldn’t come with them to announce the news. His best friend had recently acquired a position as an Auror in the Ministry of Magic, and was in the middle of training at present. Pleased enough with his own life, he couldn’t feel an ounce of jealously toward the newlyweds and heartily offered his congratulations.

Then Hermione tactfully excused herself and left him and Ginevra alone, much to his chagrin. As he engaged his former sweetheart in polite conversation, he found that, aside from the Weasley family and Quidditch, they had nothing in common. Ginevra loved to dance while he failed terribly at it. It was the same with music. She had excellent taste and an extensive knowledge of it, while he couldn’t even tell the difference between Mozart and Beethoven.

Furthermore, if he thought more on it, he realized that he had never actually pushed himself to understand her. He had felt content that she was behaving as every lady should, never questioning why she always seemed to agree with his every opinion or why she wouldn’t go against his wishes. She was perfect in every respect except wealth to be his countess. She was pretty enough and had a sound mind and was the only girl aside from Hermione that he could talk to without stuttering. And she would be the bride his mother would have approved of.

But he now realized that wasn’t a substantial cornerstone that could form a base for their relationship. In truth, he had fallen in love with love itself, not with her. And even if his situation hadn’t delivered him straight into Snape’s lap, he would probably never truly be in love with her because neither of them was brave enough nor had enough passion to tear down the wall between them created by etiquette.

He could only refuse her when Ginevra put her hand on his and asked for them to be together again, because now it was too late for her or anyone else to try to win his heart. Snape had come and torn down his every defense, and stolen his heart. So even though he hated to see her sad, he couldn’t give her what he didn’t have.

“Why?” she asked bitterly. “Is it another woman? _Is it?”_

“No,” he said, “I just don’t want you to waste another year on me.”

It was the best he could say in this situation. He couldn’t tell the truth without harming Snape’s reputation. This was a time when anyone in a same-sex relationship could face hanging by Muggle law.

“I can wait for you!” she said desperately, grabbing his hand. “One year or two, it doesn’t matter. We… we’re still young.”

“I’m sorry, Ginny,” he said her pet name softly, lifting her hand from his own.

Looking upset, Ginevra stormed out of the room. He thought she would search for Hermione and leave at once because he had disappointed her once more, and was caught off-guard when she came back and announced that she and Hermione would stay for a while. She didn’t even remotely look like she would be cowed when he spoke of the absence of a decent room and reminded her that, for an unmarried woman like her, staying under the roof of a single man’s house bordered on impropriety even if she was chaperoned by her sister-in-law.

With a stubbornness that he had never seen before, she refused to leave Godric’s Hollow, she even manipulated his guilt by threatening to stay at the local inn which was by far more inappropriate. He had a feeling that she was planning something. But as to what, he really had no idea.

XxXxX

  
Severus was tired from spending half his day on the back of a horse. He had come straight from London to Godric’s Hollow as soon as his problem was solved. And he had expected a warm welcome from his green-eyed lover. Of course, he wouldn’t mind a ‘fiery’ one if anyone asked him. So he was more than infuriated when he arrived only to see a red-haired girl hanging like a leech on his lover’s arm.

“Snape!” said his lover, clearly delighted to see him.

Severus felt a small triumph at seeing the girl’s frown when Potter removed her hands from his arm.

“Err, Ginevra, this is Mr. Snape. He is my benefactor,” said Potter. “Snape, this is Miss Weasley.”

Severus inclined his head politely while giving her a sharp gaze. Potter had called her by her first name. Then she must be the one rumor said Potter had almost married, if the boy had been in any position to do so. That made his jaw go rigid with jealousy. He tried to calm himself and gave a quick, tight smile when Potter repeated the introduction for one Madam Weasley who, if he wasn’t wrong, was the wife of the red-haired man he had seen at the first ball when he met Potter.

“Mr. Snape must be tired from his journey. We shouldn’t delay him from his rest any further,” interjected Potter quickly. “I’ll show him to his room.”

XxXxX

  
As soon as they were out of others’ hearing range, Potter turned to him and spoke urgently. “Snape, I can’t put you in your old room. Not when they are staying with us.”

Severus stiffened. Anger flared in him. It was as if he was an affair that must be hidden when the rightful mistress came home. He couldn’t accept that. Potter must know that he wasn’t someone who would be cast aside when there wasn’t any use for him.

“Please,” Potter whispered, his hand touching the side of his cheek. “I don’t like this, any more than you do.”

When Potter spoke like this, it sounded like the boy was doing this for his sake rather than his own. Inhaling deeply, he tried to curb his anger. If he was to be honest, he was usually discreet in keeping his love affairs from others, too. But somehow it was different when it came to Potter. He didn’t want to share the boy with anyone. He wanted him to be _exclusively_ his.

“But you will come to my room tonight and _any_ night, whenever I want you to come,” Severus hissed in his most dangerous voice.

Potter curtly nodded. “Yes, I promise, Snape.”

XxXxX

  
However, Potter was so worried they would get caught in the act that there was a sense of detachment he felt from the boy when they made love. It made him angrier. He didn’t want the half-hearted enthusiasm Potter gave him. It felt strained, fake, as if what they had together was something shameful. It was like they were back to the beginning of their relationship, when Potter was an unwilling participant. And it made him resent that Weasley girl more.

While Potter had assured him that they would be leaving soon enough – reasoning that Hogwarts’s new semester would be starting soon and the Weasley girl still hadn’t finished her year – he was quickly losing his patience. The glare he sent at that red-haired girl soon had the intensity of a killing curse.

He was irritated that Potter didn’t understand the girl was determined to have him, and a mere excuse such as he was too busy for romance wouldn’t make her give up on him. After all, she had to be an idiot not to notice Potter’s exceptional charms. The boy was one in a million. He was fortunate enough to have Potter as his and he’d be damned if he’d let her take him away.

XxXxX

  
A woman’s shrill wail of misery could be heard through the manor, followed by the sound of the rough opening and slamming of a door somewhere at the end of the corridor.

“Snape, I trusted you!” Potter shouted at him, his voice shaking with fury. “How could you do this to me?”

Severus couldn’t deny the accusation he heard in Potter’s words. He stood with his tongue tied, watching Potter walk out of the room after that Weasley girl. A pang of guilt and regret twisted his insides at seeing the hurt reflected in those green eyes. He had thought that if that Weasley girl saw with her own eyes that Potter desired him more than her, she would leave Potter alone. _No,_ he might have known it would end like this and he still did it.

Again, his jealously had gotten the better of him. When would he learn that it would do him no good?

XxXxX

  
Severus drank his glass of whiskey in a single gulp, relishing the burn as the amber liquid slid down his throat. In his drunkenness, he let himself wallow in self-pity and despair. He was a selfish man. He had wanted to believe that Potter would choose him instead of that girl.

Letting out a harsh laugh, he downed another glass. A fool he was, to be caught up in his own feelings, to believe that he would be good enough to be anyone’s first choice.

Still, it was painful. There were so many ‘why’s ringing in his head. _Why wouldn’t Potter choose him? Why couldn’t Potter love him? Why? Why? Why?_

He downed another glass, then another and another to escape the hurt he felt.

XxXxX

  
 _“...No! Snape, stop! You’re drunk!”_

 _Why would Potter refuse him? Potter was his._

 _”Be still... Be a good boy...“ He murmured a spell to calm Potter down._

 _Yes, that’s better. So why was Potter crying?_

 _”Shh... Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere else, I’m here to love you.”_

XxXxX

  
When Severus regained consciousness, there were two things he noticed. The body of his lover lay broken on the floor, and the stench of blood and semen permeated the air. He felt like he was going to vomit the entire contents of his stomach as he came to the realization of what he had done. His lover’s limbs were so still and splayed at unnatural angles. Those green eyes were lifeless, lacking the brilliant spirit his lover possessed.

His hand shook badly as he grasped his wand and muttered the general counter-spell as he had in his drunkenness; he remembered he had used a spell on his lover but couldn’t recall which one. He was praying with all his might that it wouldn’t be too late. For the longest time, he just stared and waited for a sign of life from his lover, unable to move.

When nothing happened, he swallowed hard and reached out to his lover. He watched as those green eyes flickered with recognition and widened in fear. Flinching away from him, his lover instantly drew himself into a defensive ball.

He froze. That exact moment, seeing what he had caused made something inside of him break. He howled in agony. What kind of a monster had he turned into to cause his lover to be afraid of him? He knew then that it wasn’t that anyone wouldn’t love him; he didn’t deserve to be loved by anyone. Let alone by someone as pure as his lover!

So, like the coward he was, he fled, leaving his battered lover alone.

XxXxX

  
 **A Few Hours Previous**

Ginny didn’t want to see him. It was understandable. She had seen her former beau in the arms of another man. From outside of the door of her room, he had said that he was sorry to hurt her. That he hadn’t wanted her to find out this way. She had replied with many hateful words in a hysterical voice, along with an insult: bloody filthy fag. He’d had no reply except to continue to apologize and to hope that she’d forgive him someday.

As for his best friend, Hermione, she had scraped a confession from him. He had told her everything, from the contract between Snape and him to the feelings he had for the man.

“I love him, Hermione,” he said weakly. “I know I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help it.”

He was utterly grateful when she enveloped him in an embrace and didn’t say anything. Later on, just before she put her belongings into a hired carriage – Ginny wished to leave right away – she promised that at least she’d try to make her understand.

XxXxX

  
Harry silently watched their carriage leaving from the window in his study. He couldn’t say he didn’t know the reason behind Snape’s foul scheme of tricking Ginny into believing that he’d invited her to his room. It was partly his fault. His indecisiveness had hurt everyone. He knew that despite his valiant efforts to prevent Ginny from flaunting their closeness in front of Snape, it had still badly provoked the older man’s anger. But he also couldn’t declare to Snape that his heart wouldn’t ever stray to anyone else because he was too afraid to hear the response.

Snape had left without a word last night, and he didn’t know whether the man would ever come back or not. But _if_ Snape did come back, he decided that he would steel his nerves and profess his love. He would assure him that if he was given the hard choice between him and his friends, he would always choose Snape. _Always,_ even though it would mean that he would be condemned to hell because, as hard as the choice was, he knew very well which he couldn’t live without.

XxXxX

  
Harry had been pacing in his study for a while. It was past dinnertime and Snape was still nowhere to be seen. ‘Harry’ the horse was also not present in the stable. Snape might have left for London for all he knew, no doubt because of his temper, which had exploded out of proportion last night. But he wished the man had dropped a word about it if he had left, because not knowing his whereabouts was weighing him down with worry.

It was laughable. He might as well turn into a woman. Before long he would start restraining Snape, nagging about where went, who he met. He could almost imagine Snape starting to avoid him, hiding every time they met in public, and himself playing the role of a jilted, obsessive lover. He shook his head in disbelief. No, it wouldn’t come to that. Too exaggerated: he had many things to do instead of wallowing in heartbreak.

A slurred voice called out his name. “Pott-eerrr...”

“Snape!” he exclaimed and ran to the door.

Wrenching it open, he found the older man staggering along the corridor and appearing to be dead drunk.

“T’eer shyuar....” mumbled Snape, making him cringe.

It would be better to put off his talk for another day. He doubted the man would understand what he said right now.

“Come on, Snape,” he said, holding the man’s arm. “Let’s get you into bed.”

He was surprised when Snape, instead of following him, pulled him down into a sloppy kiss. With difficulty, he pushed the man away.

“No,” he said firmly. “What you need now is to sleep, Snape.”

Snape frowned deeply as he dragged him with him. However, when they passed the open door of his study, Snape suddenly pushed him inside. Not expecting that, he stumbled and fell; he only had time to raise his hand to prevent his face from hitting the floor.

“Ouch!” he moaned softly. “Snape, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Before he could get up, Snape pressed him down with his weight. He stiffened when he felt the man’s tongue licking his ear.

“No!” he protested. “Damn it, I said no! Snape, stop! You’re drunk!”

He managed to turn around and put his hand on Snape’s chest, trying to shove him away. Succeeding, he ran to the door, only to have it magically slammed closed. He watched with dread when Snape pointed his wand at him. Whatever spell Snape used on him, it rendered every joint of his body useless. His legs failed him and made him fall backward. However, as his back hit the door, he learnt that it didn’t remove his sense of touch as pain ran straight to his brain.

But it was the realization of what was to come that horrified him. He felt trapped in a nightmare without the possibility of waking up. He couldn’t move to stop Snape. He couldn’t lift even one finger or let out a single sound. He tried to tell himself that Snape wasn’t in his right mind. But it was still Snape who touched and treated him as if he wasn’t a person with feelings but a mere doll that existed for the man’s pleasure. It was the worst kind of betrayal.

Tears ran down the sides of his face as he felt his heart torn into shreds. He had been naïve to hope that Snape would want more than just his body. He truly was beyond help to fall in love with Snape. After all, what value did he have for Snape aside from being a paid object to vent his lust? Hadn’t Snape stated that clearly from the beginning?

But it hurt so much. He wished the pain would kill him, sparing him from seeing the man take him against his will. And then just as he wished, the cold came. It touched his heart, freezing his feelings, numbing his senses until he couldn’t feel a thing. Not even when Snape roughly shoved himself inside of him, using him like a whore.

Long after that, he faintly felt something. When a hand came into sight, he flinched. The fear of being hurt again gripped him. He curled his body, trying to shield himself. His hands clenched tightly. He didn’t even know which pained him more now, his heart or his body, or maybe both.

That hand retreated, followed by its owner. Then he heard the sound of the man’s footsteps moving away, fading into the distance – outside the door. He could feel the tension slowly leaving his body. But he stayed there, unmoving, listening to the tick of the clock for a long, long time.

XxXxX

  
Eventually, he gathered himself together. He got rid all the evidence, silently watching it burn in the fireplace. Then he furiously scrubbed himself clean in the bath. No one had to know what had happened. When he was composed enough, he would ask Snape to break off their arrangement. He loved his people. Merlin knew he really did, but he couldn’t sacrifice himself for their sake anymore. They would have to make do with what was on hand and hope it would be enough.

When he came down that morning, Poppy told him that Snape had left the manor in a hurry. The first emotion that resurfaced at hearing that was relief that he didn’t need to meet Snape. While he wasn’t supposed to let the whole matter draw out, he couldn’t summon enough courage to go after the man. He assured himself that Snape wouldn’t come back, that it was the fate of damaged goods to be discarded.

And so another day passed, then another; he still went to the village to fulfill his responsibility, but unlike before, he couldn’t feel any happiness in doing that—in fact, he was barely feeling anything. He didn’t smile, he didn’t cry. Those who said ‘that which does not kill us makes us stronger’, they lied. He didn’t feel that he was stronger; on the contrary he felt more vulnerable than ever. He drew a shell around himself, afraid that if he felt too much, he would be hurt again.

Then a week after that, a lawyer came from London – the same person who had made the contract between Snape and him. He said that Snape had bequeathed him a sum worth more than what ten years of his estate might cost, and that the man had left for America and would never come back. When Harry heard that, he could feel anger and hurt roar in his belly. Instead of giving Harry the apology he deserved, Snape chose to leave and let his lawyer handle the dirty job of giving him a bribe to keep his mouth closed. He was disgusted by the blatant cowardice the man showed and was going to tell the lawyer that he wouldn’t accept the money when a thought stopped him cold.

It would enable him never to sell himself to anyone again. It was his right to accept it. He had fully paid for it with his blood and tears. And never again would he have to put his heart out to be trampled upon.

At least, he had thought to comfort himself that it would put an end to everything as he watched the lawyer walk out of the manor. But he learned how wrong he was when, two days later, Poppy came to him with fresh tears in her eyes, which were very unbecoming on her. He could only gape with shock as she ushered him to the kitchen to meet their old cook, the one who had been loyal to his parents and who was the first to be fired by his uncle, the kind woman who would give him food secretly even when his uncle forbade her to do it.

The same tears were in the cook’s eyes as she asked whether he would like to have her back in his employ. He could only nod in response. If he’d thought that would be the last of it, he was proven wrong once more. The next people who came knocking on his door were the old butler and gardener, followed closely by his father’s valet, and by another and another till the household was filled by the old employees, almost like when his parents were alive.

It was overwhelming. He was still coping with his shock when the carts started arriving with the old furniture, the vases, his father’s jewelled snuffbox, and many precious things that held memories of his childhood. Looking around and finding them placed where they should be made him burst into tears for the first time in many days. He cried and kept crying like a little child. He could guess who was pulling strings behind it all. _Snape._ He’d tried so hard to forget him. But how could he when Snape gave him all he wanted the most? Something other people didn’t understand; something he valued far above than money.

As he sat silently on his bed that night, he realized Snape was asking his forgiveness for the awful thing the man had done to him. Snape wasn’t the cold, heartless man he had tried to paint him as. Yet he was confused and afraid. He didn’t know which part of the man he could trust.

His dream night after night was always the same. He was in the meadow, urging Snape to chase after him, and laughing when Snape finally captured him. He could hear the man’s amused chuckle near his ear as he said, _“Impertinent brat!”_ But when he turned around to face his captor, he found that it wasn’t the man he knew; instead, he found a stranger with a malicious smile who could and would hurt him.

If he hid in his shell, he was safe. He wouldn’t have to risk his heart. But could every day spent in that gray, emotionless shade be called living? But if he risked it all, only to suffer pain worse than death, could he pick himself up again?

And then the harsh and cold winter came, leaving him with his dark thoughts. When it became too much, he would go the library and sit in the place where Snape usually sat, as if the happy memories there would nail down the rattling skeletons in his closet.

It was undeniably pathetic. He was holding onto the past, unable to move on. Even Poppy had begun to notice that something was amiss with him. He, too, was aware of that but his fear had coiled tightly around him; even the luxury of a hot meal, which could always cheer him up before, tasted like ash in his mouth. He knew that he couldn’t live with Snape, but he also couldn’t live without him.

Poppy decidedly had enough of his gloomy behaviour. She kicked him out of Godric’s Hollow as soon as the snow started melting and set him to the task of refurbishing the newly acquired townhouse in London. It was, surprisingly, quite a task. He had to do everything by himself, from interviewing the new employees to choosing the material for the wall coverings.

While the season was just starting, it let him reacquaint himself with society people as he renewed his membership at White’s. They had graciously welcomed him in because of the rumour about the increase of his wealth, which was proven by the purchase of his townhouse. The probing questions about how he’d regained his wealth were far from pleasant. But the hustle and bustle of activity going on in town distracted him from his own loneliness.

Remus had referred him to a banker who advised him on how to invest his money, and since then he had immersed himself in the businesses where he invested. It was interesting to see how they produced profit, and somehow he felt that this brought him closer to understanding the way Snape’s mind worked. And the more he understood him, the more it helped to alleviate his fear.

Not only that, every success built up his confidence. He might have been only a boy when he had met Snape. But now he was maturing into a man. He hoped that when he was brave enough to meet Snape, he would be able to hold his ground as the man’s equal.

XxXxX

  
 **London, April, 1861**

It was a wet day with a dreary grey sky that matched perfectly with the mood of one Harry James Potter. The young earl’s mood was partly due to the talk about American Civil War that spread through Britain. However, the severity of that issue hadn’t dawned on Harry until he had read today’s headline about the blockade of the South proclaimed by President Abraham Lincoln.

However, the source of his disquiet wasn’t at the loss that he might suffer because of the disruption of cotton cargo shipping but more because of his personal worries, namely Severus Snape.

He had just confirmed to Snape’s lawyer at St. James’s that it was true that Snape was currently running his business from New Orleans. The place itself might not perturb his mind if it weren’t a major port under the Union blockade. The old lawyer had reassured him that Snape’s status as a British subject would give him some protection; still, who could guarantee that Snape would stay safe in the middle of that chaos?

XxXxX

  
With an angry and frustrated growl, Harry forcefully punched the wall of a shop at St. James’s, making some of the hurried shoppers give him startled, scandalized looks. He admitted that he had stalled for quite a fair length of time, not wishing to confront Snape so soon. But never had he thought that a bloody war would get in his way. Forget about confronting Snape, he probably wouldn’t even have a chance to meet him alive. He let out a string of curses for the umpteenth time that day and shoved his bleeding hand into his coat.

Grunting, he stepped into the carriage, which bore the Gryffindor emblem. As the carriage started moving, his brain was searching hard for a way to get Snape back to Britain. After all, he couldn’t just wait for the war to be over and hope that somehow Snape would survive.

XxXxX

  
 _It’s not good,_ he thought grimly as he gave his wet coat to his butler. No matter how hard he tried to think, it wasn’t possible for him alone to face this adversity. Separated by the oceans, how he was supposed to sneak into America and successfully bring back a full-grown man without being detected? It was too far to Apparate directly and he couldn’t operate a ship, let alone skillfully penetrate the blockade. He didn’t even want to think what would happen if the ship and its crew were captured by the Union. As much as he wanted to get the man back, he couldn’t bring along and jeopardize so many other lives.

Needless to say, he couldn’t sleep soundly that night. He kept slipping erratically in and out of a lucid dream. At some time around dawn, he woke up with tears on his face and couldn’t go back to sleep. So he took out his horse and rode hard toward the Serpentine, hoping the cold morning air would clear his head.

When he came back, his butler told him there were two gentlemen expecting him in the blue room. And one of them had identified himself as Mr. Oliver Wood, Harry’s former schoolmate. He blinked, confused at hearing the name of his former Quidditch leader. He hadn’t seen Oliver in quite a while. He’d only heard from someone that he’d served as a captain in Her Majesty's Navy.

Both men stood up when he entered the blue room. One was unmistakably an older Oliver Wood, while the other was Cedric Diggory, his Quidditch rival. He paused. It was quite an odd pair. He hadn’t known that Oliver was close to Cedric. As far as he knew, the relationship between them was only as schoolmates.

Greetings were exchanged. As they took seats, he noticed that Cedric looked uncomfortable while Oliver was downright brooding. When the silence stretched, he cleared his throat.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

Cedric spoke up first, giving him a tight smile. “I believe that you’ve seen yesterday’s headline, my lord?”

Harry hesitated, “If you mean the Blockade of the South… then yes, I have.”

“You must be wondering why we’re here…” said Cedric.

Oliver cut him off, “We need your help.”

He lifted his eyes and met Oliver’s impatient gaze. He could sense urgency in those brown eyes. And they held the same manic gleam he remembered from every Quidditch match: ‘win it or die’.

“Yes, just as Oliver has said, we do need your help,” said Cedric with a touch of annoyance in his voice at being interrupted.

“Please do continue, what kind of help I can offer you?” he asked, curious.

Cedric shared a look with Oliver, then with a sigh, he explained, “We need a ship, a fast and light one, and we hope you can be our benefactor.”

At hearing that, his heart fluttered for a moment before it started pounding hard. It couldn’t be what he thought, could it?

“What for?” he said a bit breathlessly.

“So I can save my fiancée – you know, Alicia – and Diggory here can save his father,” said Oliver, motioning with his hand.

Nodding slowly, Harry said, “Am I right to assume that you both are planning to evade the naval blockade…?”

“Yes,” said both of them together.

“Do you realize the seriousness of the consequences _if_ you were to be captured?” he said.

Oliver snapped, “I wouldn’t have bowed out of the navy if I didn’t know the damn consequences!”

“We’ll be in your debt _forever_ if you help us,” said Cedric quickly to amend Oliver’s harsh words while shooting a glare at the former captain.

Harry fell silent. He could barely believe it. It was almost like a chance given by heaven. Now he had comrades with the same purpose as his.

“I don’t want your gratitude,” he said after some time. When they looked like they wanted to protest, he raised his hand to silence them. “Nor do I want you to be indebted to me. I promise I’ll help you in any way I can _but_ … with two conditions.”

Pleased that he had their full attention, he went on, “One, I need you to take someone back from America with you.”

“That can be arranged,” said Cedric, sounding relieved.

Oliver nodded his agreement, “Yes, you also have my word.”

“Two, I’ll come with you fellows” he said, bracing himself, knowing it wouldn’t be accepted easily.

Cedric protested at once, “Someone of your station shouldn’t be involved in this. It’s already bad enough we’re going to risk inciting a war by doing this.”

“No one needs to know, aside from you both,” he interjected quickly, his mind racing. “To others, I’ll be known as… _Mr. Evans_.”

When they looked at him hesitantly, he pressed further, “I won’t bargain. You can take it or leave it…”

Oliver shrugged, “Whatever, mate… it’s your neck.”

Cedric was still shaking his head with disbelief but didn’t express any more opposition on the matter.

XxXxX

  
The next two days were spent at the port. They couldn’t buy a ship legally for such a purpose, so they approached smugglers. Oliver said that the smugglers’ kind of ship was more suited for infiltration because the whole point was to avoid a confrontation with the Americans’ navy.

Then one afternoon, after he’d succeeded in purchasing a ship, he got a visit from Albus Dumbledore, the current Headmaster of Hogwarts. The old wizard came accompanied by Minerva McGonagall and Filius Flitwick, who were both his former professors at that school.

 _Blasted luck,_ he cursed as he stared at those piercing, brilliant blue eyes which always seemed to be able to read his mind. Somehow Dumbledore had gotten wind of their plan and had probably come to stop them.

“Harry, my dear boy, won’t you invite us in?” said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling.

XxXxX

  
His heated argument met with a booming laugh from Dumbledore, a snort from McGonagall, and an amused smile from Flitwick.

“We’re not here to stop you, Harry,” said the old wizard gently. “We’re here to help you.”

His face turned red. _Well, that’s embarrassing._

Afterwards, Dumbledore told him about the possibility of a breach of The International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. It would seem that the wizards were taking sides in the American civil war. So their Ministry of Magic had declared that British wizards were allowed to do whatever it took to get their precious members of wizarding society out of America.

“‘Merlin be damned if I let our blood spill because of their silly internal dispute!’” Flitwick quoted their minister’s words.

Evidently, this matter had turned out to be bigger than any of them could have predicted. As Lord Gryffindor, the task of saving those people _unfortunately_ fell on his shoulders. And that meant that the number of people they had to save also multiplied. In the end, they needed three ships to fully transport them all, much to Oliver’s displeasure at the extended delay. McGonagall and Flitwick had helped cast a camouflaging spell on the ships, while Dumbledore had created several portkeys that would enable them to bring them back to the ships as soon as they found the people they needed to take back to Britain.

However, the most reassuring news was about Dumbledore’s brother, Aberforth, who owned a bar in Charleston, South Carolina. It would be too suspicious for British men like them to nose around seeking information, so a local resident like Aberforth would be a huge help once they succeed in evading America’s navy.

At seeing Dumbledore’s confident twinkle, Harry could swear that the old wizard had predicted this would happen and had taken precautions beforehand.

It took one week to complete the preparations. And when the time to depart came, the level of anxiety had risen another degree. Not only that, he could also see the glimmer of hope in these people’s eyes who had gathered together in one purpose: sailing for their loved ones—fiancée, lover, father, mother, brother, sister. And Harry realized that he, too, was sailing for his loved one.

XxXxX

  
 **A few months before, New Orleans, January, 1861**

Despite the smiling ladies and the genial talk of the gentlemen at the governor’s house party, Severus could sense the tension in the air. Here in the South, Lincoln’s commitment to maintaining the Union was vehemently rejected, and the man himself was even more so, especially after he won the presidential election. Severus presumed that it wouldn’t be long before the South showed their resistance. And when they did, rioting was the least that could happen. But after tonight, it wouldn’t be any of his concern anymore. Always one to be prepared, he had arranged his passage for France tomorrow morning.

“Can I entice you, Mr. Snape?” said the host of the party, offering him a glass of wine.

“I’m afraid I’d have to refuse,” he declined politely. “I do not drink.”

“Are you sure…?”

“Yes, I thank you for your offer.”

Severus hadn’t touched alcohol again since that night of brutality. He had sworn off it. That fateful incident had left a bleeding scar that refused to heal. Of all people, he had hurt the person he treasured the most – his Harry. He didn’t dream of redemption. No, such a thing was out of his grasp. But at least, he would be his secret protector. He would give everything, _anything_ to make sure that the love of his life would never have to suffer again. Even if that meant that he had to make himself scarce.

XxXxX

  
Severus’s mind was full of the thoughts of his raven-haired love, only after some moments he realized that his carriage was getting slower and slower and finally stopped moving. Severus tensed at the unnatural silence. It was clear that his carriage was being ambushed. The question was ‘why?’

He took out his wand and cast upon himself a Disillusionment Charm that would hide him from their eyes. At the sound of the door being opened from outside, he held his breath and waited. The sudden light blinded him for a second. Blinking his eyes, he realized it came from the tip of someone’s wand.

“Oy, there is no one in here!” said a rough voice that could only belong to a man. “Are you sure this is his carriage?”

The other party shouted back, “I couldn't be mistaken, I swear I saw him get inside!”

Severus frowned. It wasn’t a good sign. These people were wizards. They would realize soon that he was still inside the carriage.

“Step aside, idiot! I’ll check it myself!” commanded another man.

Realizing that he couldn’t just stay and hope not to be detected, as soon as that man was in his view, he blasted him away with a curse, leaving the exit path clear. He saw other spells coming at him and swiftly cast a Shield Charm.

He ran away from the carriage. A curse narrowly missed him by a hairsbreadth and sent the horse crumpling to the ground. _Three, no… Five._ He mentally counted his attackers and hissed out a curse. He ran toward the nearest tree, hiding behind it, then raised his wand again, _“Stupefy!”_ There was a sound of a body falling down.

Without waiting, Severus yelled, _“Sectumsempra.”_ A smirk graced his lips when he heard a shriek of pain follow a second later.

But the familiar soft pop he heard indicated that more wizards were Apparating in; he realized he was outnumbered and should leave at once. He raised his wand, but suddenly found that it was hard to breathe. A strange coldness was spreading rapidly, biting into his flesh, and the soft light of the moon had vanished as if it was covered by a dark cloth. Surrounded by the impenetrable darkness, he could almost taste despair in the air, eroding his will. He fell on his knees, his wand rolled out of his grip. His fingers helplessly clawed the ground as horrible memories of his lover’s empty green eyes mercilessly replayed themselves in his head.

XxXxX

  
When Severus finally regained consciousness, he realized he was in a small room and there was a shackle around his wrist. Noticing someone observing him from a seat near the door, he drew himself up and instinctively reached for his wand, only to find that it was no longer in his pocket.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Snape?” said the man, who wore a skeleton-white mask.

Severus sent his iciest glare at the man. His head was still pounding and his skin was clammy with sweat. Only one creature was dark enough to evoke a human being’s darkest, unhappiest memories. He had just encountered a Dementor and he didn’t need anyone to tell him that whoever had used that creature shouldn’t be trusted, not to mention if it was someone who hid his face behind a mask.

“You’ve caused us some problems,” said the man, offering him a calm smile. “If only you had obediently accepted the wine, you needn’t have suffered such discomfort.”

He put on a blank expression despite the irritation he felt. The governor had been working with his captors. He had foolishly fallen into a well-planned trap.

But he still had no idea as to who they were and what they wanted from him. Enemies? Business rivals?

The man went on, “Ah, of course… We hope you’ll forgive our rude measures. This wouldn’t be needed if you had supported our supreme cause.”

Severus dissected the sentences quickly but carefully. _Supreme cause? Does this have something to do with Lincoln? Can it be they are planning to rebel against the government?_

“I believe it’s forbidden for wizards to take part in Muggles’ affairs,” he said matter-of-factly.

The man applauded. “Bravo! You’re a sharp man, Mr. Snape. We can _definitely_ use someone like you.”

Severus gritted his teeth. The man’s voice was grating on his nerves. As if a backhanded compliment like that would have made him wish to join them.

“And how,” said Severus, without preamble, lifting his shackled hands, “ _how_ can you expect _this_ will persuade me?”

“All that I can say is that many interests are involved in this.” The man smiled slyly. “And it could be in _your_ interest, too.”

The man’s smooth reply convinced Severus that he wasn’t a mere subordinate, but also wasn’t the one in charge. The very least this man might be was a negotiator. Then he, too, had to play his cards well.

“If you mean by that cotton, then I must decline,” he replied coolly, understanding that the man referred to the South’s largest material export.

When the smile on the man’s face froze, he knew he had guessed right.

“A pity then, I thought we could see eye to eye, Mr. Snape. Regretfully, it means that we can’t release you,” said the man, rising from his seat. “Even if you don’t support us, you’re still valuable enough to be our captive.”

He understood clearly now. They might talk about exports rights, but what they really wanted from him was access to his wallet.

The man added in a thoughtful tone before leaving the room, “Though we still hope you’ll change your decision, and please don’t try to escape, Mr. Snape. I assure you it won’t be pretty. Some of us are _quite…_ angry at your actions.”

And with that, he was left alone. They didn’t let him starve but he couldn’t say it was living to his standards, either. And they didn’t give him any knife or shaving blade or anything that could be used as a weapon.

It was several days later when he was moved from that place to another. He didn’t know where he was since it was via portkey. But this new place resembled more of a jail than the last one. From the top, small set of bars, he could see others who had been brought in and he could recognize some of them. He quickly noticed that these people were rounding up influential figures—some for their money, some for their position in the society.

Most of the hostages had acceded to their captors’ demands, but Severus had stubbornly refused to give in. His fortune was proof of his accomplishments after years and years of hard work. He had the privilege of choosing to whom he would give it, and that was absolutely not for their absurd cause. Besides, he had specifically put in his will that if he died, all of his wealth would go to his Harry.

Nevertheless, he wouldn’t be a Slytherin if he was stupid enough to tell his captors that they wouldn’t gain anything by locking him in. He also wasn’t an idiot who would take his own life, just because he was stuck with the elder Diggory’s annoying continuous yapping about not standing for theft and trickery from the cell across from his own.

But it wasn’t boredom that tortured him, staring at nothing but the dirty walls for months. It was more about the fact that there was nothing he could do to distract his mind from recalling all the regrets in his life. And _sometimes_ , he would dream of the fleeting touch of his Harry’s lips against his own, which would make him weep for what he had lost.

XxXxX

  
Aberforth was a grumpy-looking old man with a different personality from his brother’s, but still a good man. He immediately helped them when they gave him the letter Dumbledore had entrusted to them and provided sets of clothing so they could naturally blend with the townsfolk.

As a barkeep, the old man had heard information that common people wouldn’t. His opinion was undoubtedly valuable as they discussed the rescue plan.

“Diggory? You’re Amos’s son?” asked Aberforth.

“Yes, I am,” replied Cedric.

Murmuring an assent, Aberforth turned to him again and asked, “And this Mr. Snape you seek, is Severus Snape?”

Harry quickly nodded.

“That makes everything more complicated,” said Aberforth with a sigh.

“How can that be?” demanded Cedric.

“Don’t get me wrong, they both had moved into this town,” said Aberforth. “The problem _is_ you can’t just go and save them.”

“Is it being guarded?” Harry asked.

“Yes, all the guards are equipped with wands, and if I may say, are pretty good duellists. You won’t last against them.” Seeing their tense, darkened faces, Aberforth said, “I’ll see what I can do for you. Meanwhile, Wood, boy, you’d better go and get your fiancée. And you all too, go and get whomever you’ve come for. I’m afraid we’ll have to make a run for it after we save Amos and Snape.”

XxXxX

  
“Your only chance is this Tuesday. I heard a bigwig will come to this town,” said Aberforth, his bright blue eyes boring into theirs. “Most of the guards will be going to escort him; only a few will be left on guard. You won’t get an opportunity like this a second time.”

After that they discussed who would go on this mission and who would stay in the ship with others who had been saved in these past weeks.

“I’m coming with you,” Harry said, trying to catch Oliver’s eye. “You know I’m a good duellist. I’ll be a force to reckon with.”

“I’ll go too. I have to save my father,” said Cedric firmly.

“We don’t need many people,” said Aberforth. “It’ll be too obvious. I’ve planned something to trick them.”

“Then it’ll be four of us: Evans, Diggory, Abe, and me. The rest of you will guard the ship,” Oliver decided. “Prepare the rations for sailing and make sure to tell the crew that we’ll leave _immediately_ after we get Snape and Cedric’s father.”

A chorus of agreement could be heard in Aberforth’s loft, and then one by one they began to leave, preparing for what Tuesday would bring.

XxXxX

  
 **Tuesday – Outskirts of Charleston, South Carolina**

“HELP! FIRE!!” shouted an old man, running toward the huge old house with two guards stationed in front of it. The sounds of loud explosions could be heard. Both guards looked nervously at the flames painting the night sky red.

“You stay here, I’ll investigate,” said one of the guards, following after the old man.

Harry crouched low in the bushes that surrounded the house and exchanged a glance with Cedric. Raising his wand, Cedric pointed to a tree a few feet away from them and muttered, _“Diffindo!”_

A branch was severed and came down with a huge noise, startling the remaining guards, but Cedric didn’t stop; he pointed his wand at the tree next to it and said the same spell and repeated it, making an unbelievable series of loud noises. As the guard came closer to check the cause of the noises, Harry pointed his own wand: _“Stupefy!”_

The guard was rendered unconscious at once, but they waited until they were sure more guards weren’t coming out. Abe had said that there were at least five of them today. They dragged the guard into the bushes, hiding him and stripping him of his clothes, which Harry changed into. Then Cedric gave him a vial from his pocket. He plucked the guard’s hair and dropped it into the vial, making the liquid inside it bubble, then gulped the contents in one shot.

“How do I look?” he asked after a moment of sickness passed.

Cedric sneaked a look at the unconscious guard, comparing them, then gave him a lopsided grin. “Perfectly hideous.”

He grinned back, then gave Cedric a mock bow. “After you, Mr. Diggory.”

XxXxX

  
“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” said a man loudly as they walked into the house. “It’s your turn to stand outside, Crouch!”

Crouch must be the name of the guard who lay unconscious outside. Harry prodded his wand against Cedric’s back and gave the man a malicious smile, then said in his best American accent, “I’ve been told to escort this one in.”

“Another one, eh?” The man smirked, leering at Cedric. “They’re so many of ‘em, these pretty, nancy English lords.”

He could see Cedric scowling darkly at being called pretty, nancy lord, and he wagered that was unrelated to Cedric’s acting skill.

“I’ll leave him to you,” he shrugged as if he didn’t care, and turned to leave.

But the second he sensed that the guard had turned his back to him and focused on Cedric, he raised his wand and stunned him, all in one breath.

Cedric kicked the fallen man for good measure. “He got the _wrong_ lord.”

Harry rolled his eyes at the petty remark. Cedric seemed to take the insult to heart. “Come on.”

But before they could take a step further, a man’s head appeared from the basement stairs.

“What the hell…?” The man looked at his fallen comrade – his eyes widened in realization and he raised his wand.

The shield charm was on his lips before Harry could think. The charm made whatever spell the man had sent at them harmlessly bounce off, hitting the floor. It made the floor melt as if doused by acid as Cedric shouted a stunning spell at the man.

They both stared at the stupefied man.

“That was… _close_ ,” said Cedric, appearing shaken.

“Better keep our guard up,” Harry replied as his own heart was pounding a mile a minute in his chest, adrenaline running through his veins at almost being caught. “I think they’re being held in the basement.”

XxXxX

  
There were countless cells down there but no guard in sight.

“Dad!” shouted Cedric, walking briskly, peering from one cell to another. “Dad, where are you? If you’re still alive, answer me! Dad!!”

He was almost sure they had failed in their mission when a reply came from a cell in the middle of the corridor.

“Cedric?” said an old man’s voice, half-sobbing. “My boy, is that you?”

“Dad!” Cedric ran to that cell. “Wait, I’m going to get you out. _Alohomora!_ ”

For a moment, he thought that such a simple spell as that wouldn’t work, but then there was the sound of the door being unlocked. The door was wrenched open by Cedric, who was at once embraced by his father. Harry stood at the entrance, feeling awkward as if he was intruding on a touching father-son reunion, and was completely unprepared when a curse hit his back. He fell down with a strangled scream, keeled over in excruciating agony.

“Evans!” shouted Cedric, running out to meet his attacker.

“Oh no, you don’t!” With a flick of her wrist, the black-haired woman sent Cedric’s and Harry’s wands flying.

Cedric glared at the woman as Harry shakily got up from the floor, his body still aching all over.

“Oh, look, what do we have here? _Two little rats!_ ” the woman nastily spat out. “You might fool those men, but you can’t fool this Bellatrix.”

“Get inside the cell.” The woman motioned with her wand; when none of them moved, the woman shrieked, pointing her wand at Harry. “Get in _or_ this traitor dies!”

Obviously, Harry knew she meant him by saying ‘this traitor’. She still didn’t know he was Polyjuiced.

“Let’s get inside,” said Cedric, helping him move. “She’ll kill us if we don’t.”

“Little rats should know their _place_ ,” she said, preening with victory.

He sent a furious glare at her and nodded at Cedric, then sensed something move behind the woman, something that looked like… His eyes widened in recognition.

“I don’t think so,” said a voice calmly; when the woman turned around, she was already too late. _“Petrificus totalus.”_

The woman’s arms and legs snapped together and she fell to the floor. Across the room, Oliver Wood stood with his wand raised in a somewhat magnificent pose if not for his nosebleed. Harry had never been happier to see the captain.

“Oliver!“ “Wood!” he and Cedric said at the same time.

Cedric fired questions at him. “Why the hell did you take so long to come back? And what in Merlin’s name happened to your nose?”

Wiping the blood from under his nose, Oliver walked closer as if he hadn’t heard the questions and stepped over Bellatrix. “Really, I take my eyes from you two for a second and this happens.”

Harry rolled his eyes at the flimsy pretence. Judging by the captain’s broken nose, Oliver seemed to have stumbled into trouble when subduing the other guard, who had been lured away by Aberforth.

Cedric frowned and said in indignation, “For the record, I…”

“Enough, boys! We don’t have time for a childish quarrel!” snapped Aberforth, coming down the stairs.

XxXxX

  
“Mr. Diggory, do you know where Severus Snape’s cell is?” Harry asked Cedric’s father.

“Why, yes, just there,” said Mr. Diggory, pointing to the cell across from his own.

He turned his head in the direction Mr. Diggory pointed and froze, but no one seemed to notice it.

“Is there anyone else being held in here?” asked Oliver.

Mr. Diggory licked his lips. “Well… I think Mr. Ollivander was at the end of this corridor and the Muggle ladies in the cell beside him and…” The old wizard paused, trying to remember. “One more lord is being kept near the stair.”

“Ollivander is here?” said Aberforth, looked taken aback. “I didn’t know Muggles were being held too!”

Harry glanced back at them, frowning. “We can’t just leave the Muggles.”

“All right, just get them all. I’d feel better if we don’t leave anyone here,” said Oliver. “Evans, you get… _Evans!_ Where do you think you’re going?”

“Err, you get Mr. Snape and the lord,” he said, inching away from them. “I’ll just get Mr. Ollivander and the ladies.”

Oliver looked bemused. “But it’s your…” His old captain sighed as Harry stubbornly turned a deaf ear to his command and waved him away. “Fine, just be quick!”

Harry could feel his face burn from embarrassment as he broke into a half-run, half-limping from the after-effects of the _Cruciatus_ Curse that Bellatrix woman had used, to the end of the corridor. He didn’t know why he chose this moment to feel shy at meeting Snape again.

XxXxX

  
“Mr. Ollivander!” he called from outside the cell, hoping it was the right one.

“What do you want from me? I’ve made the wands you asked me for!” replied the old wizard angrily.

 _Yes, it’s definitely Ollivander from the wand shop._

“No, sir. We’re here to take you back to England,” he said as he unlocked the door with his wand.

“But you… you’re the one who took me in!” said Ollivander with a frown, giving a suspicious look at his face.

“No, I’m not, sir. This is Polyjuice,” he explained.

“Ah, I see,” muttered Ollivander, getting out of the cell.

“My friends will be waiting near the stairs, you can go there first,” said Harry. “I still have to release the ladies.”

XxXxX

  
A shrill scream met his ears as he opened the ladies’s cell. “Nooo…!”

“Please do not panic, ladies,” he said quickly. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

“You are rescuing us?” asked the older lady.

“Yes, I’m here to take you both back to England,” he replied softly.

“See, milady,” the woman said to the younger lady. “I told you, someone was going to save us.”

The younger lady sobbed, “Yes, Maria, you’re always right.”

The hysterical crying continued for some moments until he urged them to move.

“We really have to go now, ladies,” he persuaded them. “Those men might come back any time.”

Apparently, it wasn’t the right thing to say at the moment because it caused the lady to go weak in the knees from fright, obliging him to carry her. Thank Merlin, her companion was made of stronger stuff because he was already walking half-staggered from carrying her when he reached the stairs, much to his friends’ amusement.

But any embarrassment was forgotten when he caught sight of the man he loved standing near Aberforth. His heart leapt with joy at once. Snape was a bit thin and looked like a wild pirate with those black whiskers around his pale face, but otherwise the older man appeared unharmed.

“Let’s play the charming knight part later, Evans,” said Oliver, looked utterly amused. “We have to go now.”

Even though Oliver’s reproach made his ears redden from shame, he obediently nodded, then gently put the lady down. Though he kept stealing looks at Snape as Aberforth briefly explained how the portkey worked to the ladies.

XxXxX

  
“Please touch the medal now, a finger will do,” said Aberforth, his voice booming. “Ready? On the count of three. _Three… Two… One…”_

He faintly heard a loud commotion upstairs as he felt the familiar jerk behind his navel, propelling him forward. He could feel Oliver’s and Cedric’s shoulders banging against his as they were all speeding forwards in a howl of wind and swirling colour.

XxXxX

  
His feet slammed into the floor and he ungracefully fell over. Everyone, aside from Aberforth, Snape, Mr. Diggory and Cedric, was sprawled on the ship’s deck. Oliver was the first one to get up.

“Is everyone all right?” asked Oliver, his gaze sweeping over them.

At that exact moment, Mr. Ollivander groaned because the older wizard was trapped beneath the weight of the lady’s companion. But aside from that, all of them appeared to be in good condition.

“Well, looks good enough to me...” Oliver shrugged then turned and shouted to the ship’s crew, “Prepare to leave!”

As the message was repeated to the other two ships using a light signal, he felt the sensation of the skin all over his body rippling like bubbling wax. Panicked that the Polyjuice was wearing off, he hurriedly ran to the cabin below despite the startled looks everyone gave him. He didn’t dare to stop, even when he sent a woman flying on his way there. He opened the door roughly and then slammed it closed.

Immediately, he was surrounded by darkness. He didn’t attempt to light a lamp as he blindly moved deeper, trying to calm himself. It felt ridiculous to be nervous now. He should have been ready to meet Snape. Hell, he sailed the sea for the man’s sake!

“Don’t be an idiot! Calm down, calm down…” he muttered. Not that he cared whether Snape remembered him or not. All right, that _was_ a lie, but it was insane to be shaking in his boots like this.

A sudden knock on the door made his heart go to his mouth. However, what came next almost made him let out a high-pitched yelp.

“Mr. Evans?” said a low, velvet voice that he knew in his heart. “May I come in?”

Harry vigorously shook his head but no voice came out. _No, go away!_ He scrambled hastily to the darkest end of the cabin when he heard the door being opened from the outside.

“Mr. Evans?” asked Snape quietly. “I apologize if I disturb you, but I heard from Captain Wood that it’s you who arranged my liberation.” The black-haired man paused briefly. “So I'd like to express my gratitude for setting me free.”

 _Damn you, Oliver! Why did you have to tell that it was me?!_ He growled inwardly but kept quiet, hoping the man would take that as a cue to leave him alone.

“If I may know… Are you somehow related to Lily Evans?” Snape inquired politely after a few moments passed in silence.

Maybe it was the irritation of hearing his mother’s name on Snape’s lips that injected courage into him or it might have been something else entirely, but it had prompted him to open his mouth.

He spoke harshly, “More than you know.”

This time, the silence was so thick that he imagined he could cut it with a knife. And then, almost like a guilty verdict, he heard his name was spoken out by Snape with great disbelief.

“Harry…?”

He moaned silently. _I am an idiot!_ Nevertheless, his heart was humming with delight that Snape remembered his voice.

XxXxX

  
Severus felt his heart stop. He would always recognize that voice _anywhere, anytime._

“Harry…?”

Severus waved his wand and almost at once a soft glow from the lamp illuminated the small cabin. He stood speechless as his eyes drank greedily what sight offered him. Evans was really his Harry!

As he stood there, marvelling at the fact that the love of his life was here in the ship, he remembered the terrible scream he had heard from behind his cell door, linked it with the story that Wood and Diggory had told him about Evans, and felt the blood drain from his face. His hands trembled with terror at how close Potter had come to death. And then he felt angry – angrier than he’d ever been before, for the risk Potter had taken: all for his unworthy self.

“POTTER!” Severus exploded with rage, self-restraint forgotten. “YOU THINK THIS IS A GAME?!” He roared in broken sentences, “YOU – _YOU_ PUDDING-BRAINED FOOL! YOU COULD HAVE BEEN KILLED!” His chest rose and fell with unrestrained emotion. His hands clenched tightly. “OF ALL IRRESPONSIBLE THINGS—.”

Potter strode toward him and shouted back, “NO, YOU LISTEN HERE, YOU GIT! YOU EXPECTED ME TO NOT DO ANYTHING WHEN I HAD THE POWER TO DO SO?! YOU EXPECTED ME TO STAND BACK AND SEE YOU SUFFER WHEN _I LOVE YOU_?!”

Severus felt his jaw drop an inch. His head felt as dizzy as if he had been slammed by something blunt and hard. Potter couldn’t have just said that he loved him! The boy ought to hate him, not love him!

Potter mumbled, a red flush adorning his face, “Damn you, don’t stay silent, say something…”

“Potter, you can’t possibly love me,” he said when at last he found his voice.

Potter shot him a dark glare and demanded, “Why not?”

His mouth snapped into a tight, straight line. Did he really have to state out loud why Potter shouldn’t love him? His wrongdoings were something that shouldn’t be forgiven, ever. Potter should have let him rot in his cell for his sins.

“If you’re thinking about that night…” Potter said in a closed expression. “Yes, you did – you did hurt me, Snape. You had _misused_ me… there were days I spent just hating you.”

Severus blanched and looked like he had just been slapped. He had expected that from Potter, still it was no less painful. And if anything, it made him hate himself more; still, Potter went on, “But do you know _why?”_

His heart was screaming at him to run – to not hear as his sins were laid bare between them. Yet his feet were rooted to the ground. He deserved Potter’s spite, his hurtful words. He deserved the blame.

“Because…” said Potter quietly, lifting his eyes to meet his own, “… I thought that you didn’t love me.”

Severus inhaled sharply. He had been right. Back then, Potter had feelings for him. They could have been happy together; instead, his blind jealously had ruined it all.

“Don’t say...” Severus choked out, stumbling back out of the room. _Don’t say any more._ His heart lamented in a cry, mourning what was lost.

“Don’t run, Snape! Don’t you dare!” Potter shouted at him, gripping his shirtfront.

Severus closed his eyes in defeat. “I—I am unworthy of your love, you deserve better.”

“Then don’t run! Repent!” Potter violently shook him. “I don’t want better. I want you, no one else but you!” Then the boy pleaded in a heartbreaking voice, “I’d rather be hurt a thousand times than not have you love me, Severus. I beg of you, love me…” Tears were falling freely from those green eyes. “Love me… Maybe you can live without me, but I can’t live without you.”

A strangled sob escaped his lips. It was he, Severus, who couldn’t live without him. But _always_ , his Harry would always be the first one to discard his pride – to say the truth. His Harry would always be the better man, his only path to salvation.

“Potter, you’re losing your mind,” said Severus in a hoarse voice. “I shouldn’t be losing mine too.”

Severus knew that he didn’t deserve this perfection, but his soul yearned desperately for his green-eyed angel’s love.

His Harry wiped his tears with his sleeve and then smiled, lowering his voice to a whisper as if they were planning a conspiracy, “But you will.”

“But I will…” Severus whispered back at him and took a shuddering breath as he felt the heavy burden on his heart being lifted.

Without warning, Potter wound himself tightly around him. “Be prepared, Severus Snape. I’ll never, _ever_ let you go,” his love said seriously.

Severus could feel a small smile twist his lips. Deep inside he knew that there wouldn’t be a day when he wouldn’t wish for his Harry. Wrapping his arms around the love of his life, he replied softly, “My heart will always be yours.”

Potter lifted his head and pressed his hand to Severus’s chest with a broad grin. “It’s mine now. You’ll never get it back.” Rubbing their noses together, the boy said, “But don’t worry, in return, you can keep my heart.”

Severus laughed, and before his love could get offended, he captured his lips with his own. But instead of relaxing, he could feel Potter’s body stiffen. He cursed his own impatience. It was still too fast. Potter might have forgiven his faults but it didn’t mean the boy had forgotten what had happened.

Potter pushed him away and put his hand on his mouth, then ran as fast as he could out of the cabin. Severus went after him, calling his name, pleading for forgiveness, but his love didn’t stop running. He chased him to the upper deck and saw Potter lean onto the railing and hurl the contents of his stomach to the sea below. He felt immeasurable guilt as his love kept retching badly, making those green eyes glisten with tears.

It was his fault that Potter couldn’t bear to be touched by him. He would exercise a firmer grip on his desire. His love shouldn’t fear that he would force him.

“I promise I won’t touch you,” he said softly, not wanting his love to run away again from him. “Not, if you don’t want me to.”

“What?” said Potter with disbelief, his face was slightly green. “What are you – oh, you mean…?” The boy massaged his belly and leaned back to look at him. “That isn’t it, Snape. I get seasick.”

When he lifted his eyebrow, Potter added, “I swear to God this has _absolutely_ nothing to do with you… Ask Oliver or Cedric if you want.”

He frowned and said, rather cross at Potter for making him worry, “What kind of a _moron_ would sail on a ship, knowing he was prone to seasickness?”

“I didn’t know, all right?” Potter snapped, glaring at him. “I didn’t know I’d be seasick before the ship sailed.”

Severus made a soft noise of disbelief. “How very typical of you, Potter.”

“Oh, sod off, Snape,” Potter sniffed. “Be grateful I saved your sorry arse.”

Severus shook his head and was too relieved that his love wasn’t disgusted by his touch to feel real anger at the rude remark. “My _poor_ love.”

Potter perked up at once. “What did you just say?”

Amused, he repeated the endearment. “My love?”

“I want to kiss you,” Potter blurted out in all honesty, making him chuckle.

“Not now, Potter,” Severus replied coolly in the same tone of voice he would have used to train a dog, _‘Down boy, down’_ , which made Potter throw a dirty look at him. “I’ll let you kiss me when your mouth doesn’t actually taste like vomit.”

“You’re a cold man, Severus Snape,” Potter grumbled.

“That’s acceptable, seeing you’re warm enough for both of our sakes,” said Severus, smirking when he saw the boy blush.

XxXxX

  
His beloved was back, even to the point of the older man’s snarky remarks. There was no trace of that stranger in him and for that, he was greatly relieved. And he couldn’t believe how a simple thing like knowing that he owned Severus’s heart made him stronger, strong enough to trust the man again.

“Are we there yet?” he asked again, not lifting his head from Severus’s lap, aware that the older man might already be bored by the same question he asked every day they spent on the ship.

Severus let out a low chuckle and kissed the top of his head. “Soon,” the man promised, repeating what Oliver had told them last night.

“Remind me not to travel by ship again,” he moaned.

The journey back felt so much slower, even though Oliver had assured him that the ships were going at their fastest speed. Life was hard when he was puking and cursing and moaning over why America and Britain were so far apart, while all he wanted was for Severus to touch him.

XxXxX

  
A few hours later, Severus nudged him to look at the horizon. “Potter, look.”

He blinked and lifted his head then beamed at the sight of the port. _England! Home!_

“Are you sure you don’t want to properly say farewell to the others?” asked Severus.

He shook his head. He had left a note for Oliver with one of the crewmembers. It told Oliver not to worry about his and Severus’s whereabouts – they were going home – and that he gave his old captain full authority on these ships to do as he wished. While he was sure Wood wouldn’t be too happy to accept them, he was sure Alicia could persuade Wood into it.

“No, I can’t wait. I need to feel the ground beneath my feet.” Then he leaned closer to whisper in Severus’s ear, “Besides, I’d rather have you to make love to me than spend time with others.”

As was to be expected, Severus let out a low, impatient growl at his words, making him grin. And then they entwined their hands as they Disapparated from the ship together.

XxXxX

  
He and Severus sneaked silently into his townhouse. Every time the stairs creaked under their weight, it made him giggle while Severus’s black eyes glittered with amusement. There was something deliciously wicked about it. It felt like they were young lovers meeting in a secret tryst in the middle of the night.

 _Well, except that we’re really lovers now,_ he thought with a pleased smile.

“Come,” he said quietly, tugging Severus’s hand. “My bedroom is that one.”

He went in first, lighting the fireplace with his wand, and then when Severus stepped inside, he closed the door with a soft click and locked it.

“So what do you think?” he asked mischievously, walking to the bed.

“Your bedroom?” asked Severus, raising his eyebrow at him. “I do not find anything… You’ve stolen _my_ bed?”

“No, sir. I’ve claimed it legally from an auction,” he replied with a grin, his fingers stroking the bed’s sheet. “You see, all the time I spent on it made me take a particular liking to it.”

Severus scowled. “You have to stop teasing, Potter.”

“Or what?” he mocked his lover, his heart pounding in anticipation of what was to come.

Severus’s voice dropped an octave, sending shivers down his spine. “ _Or_ you’ll get more than you can manage, my love.”

“Let me try then,” he said seductively, inviting the man into his bed and into his heart.

XxXxX

  
Harry arched his body at the pleasure his lover gave him. He could feel Severus’s hand slowly stroking his hard shaft and the man’s lips kissing along his throat then down his thigh and going lower to his entrance, spreading the tight passage with his tongue, sliding one long finger to join it. Harry’s body was tingling at the exquisite feeling.

A bolt of unexpected pleasure ran through him, making him gasp, as his lover curled his finger inside him. “Feels good… more…” he moaned impatiently and rocked his hips against his lover’s finger. And then Severus’s mouth was on him, kissing him deeply, his lover’s tongue tangling with his own in a sensual, long lick and making him yearn for more. Then Severus added another finger, scissoring, brushing at his prostate, making him spread his legs wantonly.

“Please, don’t stop,” he begged, half-sobbing. “I need you.” He was so close to reaching his own release, but he wouldn’t come, not without Severus deep inside of him.

He heard Severus whisper his name in a sigh before leaning forward and capturing him in another kiss as the man moved against him, easing himself into him slowly. He tried to hold back his pained moan but did not quite succeed and felt Severus still and start to pull away.

“No, no… I’m fine,” he said quickly. “I just… need more time to get used to it.” He kissed his lover’s tensed jaw, tried to ease the tension. “You’re _huge_.”

He sighed when his lover didn’t smile at his jest. Severus was more traumatized by that incident, even more than he, the supposed victim.

“I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you, Severus,” he said in a low voice as he wrapped his legs around Severus’s waist, impaling himself on the older man’s shaft, making both of them moan with pleasure.

“Own me, Severus…” he said breathlessly, pressing light kisses on his lover’s chest and neck, then lifting his half-lidded eyes to meet the man’s gaze. “Claim me as yours…”

Provoked, his lover moved forward, driving himself deeper into him, rubbing at the right place, making him throw his head back with pleasure, but it wasn’t enough. He needed _more._ Breathing heavily, he wiggled his hips impatiently, making his lover groan with pleasure.

“Patience, Potter!” growled Severus, his usual collected composure broken.

Harry could feel his lover, hot and pulsing inside him. It made desire rake through his body and his shaft weep with pre-come. It had been so long since Severus last touched him. “I can’t!” he whined in protest. “I need to come! Need you so much!”

His confession set those black eyes burning fiercely. His mouth was captured in a rough kiss as his lover started to move. After what seemed like an eternity of pleasure, he felt Severus convulse inside him and then he let himself reach oblivion, his older lover’s name on his lips as the wave of climax washed over him.

XxXxX

  
Severus awoke to a soft touch on his face but kept still, taking pleasure in the attention given to him. The first time was rough and fast. They were rutting like animals in heat for the sake of release instead of sweet affection. His green-eyed lover was beautiful and too arousing when he was ruled by needy, feverish desire. Though he worshipped him just as much when they took time to appreciate the lovemaking more slowly – so slowly that all the pores of his body felt like they had developed consciousness, memorizing every touch, every kiss into his very being.

“My Blackbeard pirate,” he heard his lover murmur quietly.

With an amused smile on his lips, he slowly opened his dark eyes. He captured his lover’s fingers with his own; his chest filled with warmth when he saw his lover’s smile. This wasn’t the first time his Harry had referred to him as the famous pirate. Back then, when he had just been freed, he had to admit that he deserved to be called a pirate with filthy, unkempt whiskers around his face.

Nevertheless, he had shaved regularly on the ship with a spare razor blade borrowed from the captain and had always continued to do so after they arrived in London. But judging by the wicked twinkle in those green eyes, it seemed his lover had a fondness for pirates.

Arching his eyebrow, he said dryly, “Are you sure you don’t have the wrong person, my lord?”

“No,” Potter said with a wide smile. “ _You’re_ my pirate,” he said impertinently. “You’ve plundered my heart.”

“That’s a serious accusation, my lord,” said Severus, arching his eyebrow elegantly. “Your evidence?”

His lover climbed on top of him and struck a haughty pose. “I don’t need any evidence.”

Severus snorted loudly. “Once again, you astonish me with your gifts, my lord. _Gifts_ …” he paused briefly, “…mere mortals could only dream of possessing.” He smirked. “How grand it must be, to have such privilege.”

Potter daintily wrinkled his nose and crossed his arms and attempted to look intimidating, or at least as intimidating as a naked person could. “I could get you hanged for your sins, pirate.”

“Then _will_ you really leave me to hang?” he asked, his hands moving in a sensual stroke along his spine.

Severus could feel his lover shiver at his touch. He swore he could almost hear him purring in delight like a feline as those green eyes closed briefly. Clearing his throat, Potter replied seriously, “I think I’d rather sentence you to lifelong imprisonment.”

“Oh? No chance for release?” Severus taunted him, arching his eyebrow elegantly.

“No, I’ll make sure of that,” Potter said firmly, though that grin on his lover’s face betrayed all the seriousness of his words.

XxXxX

  
After that, Severus spent his days with his lover in blissful contentment, aside from Harry’s request to go back to Godric’s manor to make love in the study and the meadow. It had made him grimace inwardly at being reminded of his sin but he agreed to do it. It was time to put the past behind them and not let it overshadow their future.

Despite the warming charm, he had nearly frozen his bits off when they made love in the meadow, and as vigorous as he was, he would have been far from getting hard in the manor’s study if not for his lover’s slow, patient care, but everything felt worth those struggles when Harry smiled and told him how much he loved him – even if he couldn’t feel heartened to know that he was ranked just barely above his lover’s favourite treacle tart.

Still, he was more than pleased to know that Potter had developed an interest in business while he was in America. Their discussion about that topic was highly stimulating, even though they mostly had different opinions. Unlike himself, Potter would never be a ruthless businessman. His lover was too sweet-tempered to be one. While he always viewed such a nature as weakness, it suited Potter very well and he would never wish his lover to change.

In his absence, his young lover had changed, but Severus didn’t know how much Potter had changed until an invitation came when the weather was at its coldest and the ground was covered deep in snow. It was an invitation to the annual winter solstice ball arranged by the Ministry of Magic. Potter couldn’t decline because the minister himself had brought that invitation to Godric Manor’s door and kindly pointed out that Harry Potter was the honoured guest because of his good deeds saving the members of their magical society. And if his green-eyed lover was going to attend the ball, it meant that he would go with him.

XxXxX

  
On a cold evening in December, they went together to the winter solstice ball. And before his eyes, he could see how much his lover had changed. The ugly duckling had _at last_ matured into a graceful swan and found the place where he belonged. His lover’s awkwardness around women had gone, replaced by genial ease. Potter could even manage polite talk with influential figures in society, which was a skill the old him never had.

Severus was at loss for words when he saw his lover escort one of the ladies to dance. Apparently, Potter’s dancing ability had improved a lot when he discarded his nervousness around females. Of course, he wouldn’t expect Potter to stay a child forever, but these rapid changes made him feel uneasy.

He didn’t feel jealous, _yet._ Not even when Potter was in someone else’s arms, because those yearning gazes Potter gave him when he danced with any woman gave him more than adequate assurance that the green-eyed lover’s heart was still his.

But now that Potter was behaving cordially, which went nicely with his rank and wealth, Severus was sure that his lover would be hunted like a fox once the season began. Potter could run and hide but eventually he’d have to give up and choose one of the ladies, because Severus knew better than anyone that his lover’s loyalty and sense of duty to his people would prevent him from doing otherwise.

It wasn’t because Potter was a lord that he was respected by his people, but because the young man was a protector. It was his very essence to ensure his people’s safety. That was why they placed their faith in him and that was why Potter was their lord, because they knew Potter wouldn’t lead them astray.

The saviour tendency of his lover was a gift and also a curse. It had delivered Potter straight to his arms and could take him away again. After all, what kind of preventive measure was more appropriate than leaving an heir to the earldom to take care of his people?

XxXxX

  
Harry thought his lover was the most charming man at this ball, though, his assessment was probably clouded by his love for the raven-haired man. He could feel those black eyes intensely gazing at him, warming his cheeks. His heart was pounding as he offered Severus a shy smile. And when he saw the man give him a small smile in return, he could feel the distance between them shrink, even though he was dancing on the floor with Miss Johnson and Severus was in the other part of the hall.

The greater part of him longed to be back at the manor with Severus instead of attending this ball. It was never enough. No matter how often they touched, no matter how long they spent time together, he still yearned for more. He was drowning in love and he never wanted to be saved. If Severus’s love for him was at least a third as great as his love for Severus, then he knew what they had together would last till the end.

It was true that, just like himself, Severus had changed in the many months they were parted. Fortunately, it was nothing like he had feared before. The change was so subtle that if one didn’t know the older man very well, they wouldn’t even notice. While Severus’s words and wits were as sharp as ever, now the older man would touch him with gentleness and patience that he hadn’t possessed before.

He didn’t mind, not even a bit; on the contrary, he was overjoyed by the change, because it made him feel loved. If he believed affection should be showed with words, then Severus believed affection should be showed by gesture.

Still, he had no objection if one day the ‘Don Juan’ part of the older man came back, as long as the Don Juan belonged only to him.

XxXxX

  
After he escorted Miss Johnson back to her mother, he politely turned down the opportunity to stop and talk and went to look for Severus. However, it would seem that now his lover was nowhere in sight and no one seemed to have seen him. Though it was rather doubtful that Severus would leave the party without notifying him. He moved through the crowd and slipped out of the main hall.

He didn’t have to search far to find the man he loved. The flickering light from the lamp showed him the lone figure of Severus Snape standing on the open terrace several yards away. The man appeared to be staring pensively at the falling snow and had probably been standing there for some time, unaffected by the white mass that was slowly piling on top of his head.

“A penny for your thoughts, Mr. Snape,” he said, breaking the silence.

“My lord…” replied Severus formally, turning to face him, his breath coming out in short wisps of white vapour. The older man inclined his head, sending some snow falling onto his shoulders.

Harry stifled the urge to chuckle as he raised his hands to brush the rest of the snow from Severus’s head. “You didn’t have to come with me if you loathed this type of entertainment. I’d understand…” he said earnestly.

Severus’s lips twitched. “Who am I to refuse to accompany ‘the chosen one’?” he said, using the title given Harry by the minister of magic.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe somewhere along the lines of the benefit becoming ‘the love of my life’, and else, sir,” he answered with ease, grinning.

Severus’s black eyes glittered with amusement. “How convenient.”

“Only for you, sir,” he agreed, good-naturedly. “Only for you…”

That earned him a long unreadable look from Severus, which made him anxious. He could feel the older man grow distant before turning to stare at the falling snow again. “Won’t your admirers miss you if you stay out here too long?”

Harry shook his head. “I couldn’t care less about them. I don’t know about you, sir, but I believe I’m ready to go home.”

Severus stirred from his brooding stance, then offered his hand to him. “Home— it is.”

XxXxX

  
The problem with Severus and his thoughts was that the older man rarely shared them with him. He knew it wasn’t because Severus didn’t trust him, merely because the older man was so used to being discreet with his thoughts. From what he had learnt, prying them out of Severus’s mouth would be something akin to stealing a dragon’s egg. What he ought to do was make his lover feel sated enough to loosen his tongue, or use his tears to evoke guilt in him. But right now, he was mulling over whether he should take the first option or not.

“I’m tired,” Severus had said evasively before closing the door that led to the man’s bedroom in Harry’s face, and leaving him staring at the closed door with a dumbfounded expression.

Tonight would be the first time in months for them not to share the same bed. He had a feeling that something had gone wrong when Severus gave him _that_ look, but he didn’t realize it would be this serious. He hadn’t made Severus angry at him and the older man didn’t seem to be jealous when he escorted Miss Johnson. He couldn’t think of even one reason why Severus would behave like this.

He tried to open the door to no avail. Calling and knocking repeatedly also was no use. He gritted his teeth. _Oh, no, you don’t. You have to explain, Snape._ The hell with being nice and understanding, he’d had enough of it. He’d rather be a nosy, insufferable presence than have Severus ignore him. He harrumphed loudly. _Fine, he’d bloody show him!_

XxXxX

  
Shivering severely and his nose red from the cold, Harry tried not to fall from his broom as he lifted one hand to rap sharply on the window. He saw Severus jump out of his bed at seeing him hovering outside his window and stride to him and then stop short. Those black eyes widened in astonishment.

“Open up! I’ll never forgive you if I fall down and die, Snape!” he shouted through his chattering teeth as another cold wind swept through him. “I swear I’ll become a vengeful ghost and haunt you for the rest of your life!”

That seemed to snap his lover out of his shock. Severus wrenched the window open and dragged him in. “Potter! You idiot boy! What in the devil is a matter with you?!”

“Those were supposed to be my words!” he snapped back, slamming his broom to the floor. “What have I done this time?”

“I beg your pardon?” Severus said at once. “Why— _why_ on earth would you come to that conclusion?”

“It’s not me who childishly didn’t want to open the door even though I knocked on it so loud it might raise the dead,” he replied, glaring at his lover.

“You knocked?” said Severus, frowning, then with a deep agonizing sigh, the man pulled him closer and enveloped him in his warm arms. “I cast a Silencing spell. I did not ignore you on purpose.”

“Oh…” He blinked, feeling his anger shrinking rapidly and beginning to feel a lot more embarrassed. “Why would you want to do that?”

“If I need time alone to think, my love, it doesn’t mean that you’ve done something wrong,” said Severus sarcastically. “ _However_ , I see, I’m not allowed to do that anymore, seeing it made you risk freezing your arse and breaking your neck.”

Harry’s face went pink. “I—I just don’t want you to ignore me,” he murmured.

“Potter…” Severus let out another long sigh, which was uncharacteristic of him. “From one drastic measure to another: what should I do with you?”

“Don’t give up on me,” he said quickly, trying to look earnest. “I’ll try to- _er_ -behave.”

Severus snorted loudly then pointed to the bed. “Sit!”

He restrained the urge to growl at the unfairness of being treated like a dog _again_ , and sat down meekly. When Severus said nothing, he started, “Sev…” He paused. This was probably not a wise move when he had just promised to behave, but he couldn’t help himself. “What’s so important you need to be alone to think about it?”

He was taken aback by the revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of Severus’s face. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to ask. “You—you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” he stammered nervously, wondering if he had gone too far this time.

“No,” said Severus harshly, struggling to control his emotions. “This has everything to do with you—with _us_.”

His heart sank when he heard that. His imagination couldn’t supply any evidence, but whatever the problem was, it had put Severus in a terrible mood. “With us…?” he repeated with difficulty. His throat felt dry.

Afraid that he wouldn’t like the answer, he hesitantly asked, “What—What is it, Sev?”

Severus looked reluctant to reply, his jaw clenching. “Eventually, I’ll learn to share you,” the man said with a dark look on his face.

He blinked. Did he hear that correctly? “I beg your pardon?” he demanded in disbelief, his brows rising high.

“Potter, you need an heir to continue your family line,” said Severus quietly, as though he was pained by the words he had just said.

Realization dawned on him. Now he knew what this was all about. “Yes, but…”

“And for that, you’ll need a wife,” Severus spat out in a bitter voice. “Well, I don’t need to share you if you don’t want to continue our affair anymore.”

“Sev!” He stood up abruptly and said sternly, “Don’t say another word. I don’t want to hear this nonsense.” He shook his head. “I’m yours, and will always be. You don’t have to share me with anyone.”

Severus’s lips thinned. “Potter, you’d make your ancestors weep if they knew their line would end with _you!_ ” The man snarled, “And what about your precious people? You’ll regret it someday. I’d rather not be the cause of your regret!”

Cursing himself for being insensitive, Harry realized that he should have told Severus earlier. He had caused unnecessary pain to his older lover. Walking toward Severus, he gently grasped his hand with his own. “If they weep, I assure you, Sev, it won’t be from the lack of effort from me, and… one thing that I will never regret in this life is choosing you.”

He could feel Severus’s resolve weaken. “Potter…”

“I have a secret, Sev,” he said, trying to give a reassuring smile at his lover, but it came out as a grimace.

“Are you trying to tell me you have a bastard child hidden somewhere?” Severus raised his eyebrow.

He felt insulted, kind of. “No! I’m not the Don Juan here!” Narrowing his eyes, he said suspiciously, “Wait, do you? Do you have a bastard child hidden somewhere?”

“Of course not,” said Severus coolly.

He licked his dry lips. “But you have lain with women before?”

“I do not see how this has anything to do with your secret,” replied Severus.

“Have you or have you not, Sev?” he asked, even though a part of him was jealous of those unknown women.

“If this is a question about fidelity, I haven’t lain with any female since we had our agreement, but you can’t expect me to have remained celibate since my youth, can you?” said Severus with a dry voice.

“Err, that’ll do…” he trailed, relieved.

Severus narrowed his eyes. “What the deuce do you mean by that?”

He shifted his feet, feeling apprehensive. “I want you to close your eyes, Sev.” He added when he saw his lover was going to protest, “Please, trust me.”

He hadn’t done this for a long time and was afraid that he had forgotten how to do it, but his fears proved unwarranted as he felt the bones under his skin shift and the important parts of him form into another shape. It didn’t leave an uncomfortable feeling like when using Polyjuice potion because it had always been in his blood – another him that was a source of disappointment for his father and that he needed to keep hidden at all costs.

“You can open your eyes.” He winced as he heard his voice a pitch higher than usual.

Severus stared at him, confused. “If I’m supposed to see something, I don’t see anything different.”

He looked down at his chest and found it rather flat, but he did know that under the shirt was no longer the flatness of a male body.

Clearing his throat, he said, “Touch me.” When Severus did nothing but raise his eyebrow, he took the man’s hand and guided it to his chest. The older man froze when his hand fell on the small, soft mound of his chest. He didn’t dare to look up to see contempt in his lover’s eyes.

“I— I’m a Metamorphmagus.” He let out a laugh which sounded kind of strangled. “I almost gave the midwife a heart attack by turning from a baby boy to a baby girl within the hour after I was born.”

Silence, then he heard Severus ask, “You can change into a variety of forms?”

“Actually, I can’t… I’m a failure,” he muttered, looking down at the floor with a cringe. “I can only change my gender.”

He had never told this secret to anyone before. In a world where paternal lineage inherited everything, the existence of his ability to turn into the fairer gender was unneeded. His parents were happier if he stayed a boy. But to tell the truth, he might have wanted someone to acknowledge this other side of him.

“I don’t need a woman to bear an heir for me. Well, that’s if…” He hesitated. “…you’ll have me.”

Severus lifted his chin to face him. As their eyes met, the man said, “You’re not a failure, you’ve just saved one nameless woman from suffering an early, painful death.”

His tense face broke into a smile. “Sev, you’ve plotted for me to be your partner-in-crime to kill my supposed wife in your mind?” he choked out, bursting into a laugh. And here he’d thought he was the egotistical one.

“Finders keepers, I have a mind to keep you for myself for life,” Severus said.

“Am I right to assume you’ve just asked for my hand, Mr. Snape?” he said in all seriousness.

“Indeed, I have,” Severus replied solemnly. “I’ve compromised your virtue in the manner of a brute, my lady.”

Snorting at being called ‘my lady’, he crossed his arms. “I hope you won’t regret that soon.” Then he added with a mischievous grin, “You do realize that, while I’ll be the one bearing our child, _you’re_ the one who will be presented before the Queen as Lady Potter.”

Severus’s face went several shades paler at hearing the last part. “Potter…”

“You want our child to be a bastard?” he said innocently.

“Potter, can’t we just…”

He shook his head. “No.”

“You haven’t heard what I…”

“No,” he cut him off firmly. “I don’t wish our child to be subjected to nasty rumours about the legality of his or her birth.”

“Potter, for Merlin’s sake, I don’t even look like a woman!” snapped Severus, irritated.

He smiled and said kindly, “A _little_ charm won’t hurt anyone.” He fully knew he had turned his lover’s own words against himself.

A low frustrated growl could be heard from Severus. Laughing, he dodged as his lover tried to catch him, and then grabbed his broom. He might have succeeded in escaping if he hadn’t been suddenly hoisted into the air, dangling upside-down.

“Err, Sev…” His laugh subsided when he saw his lover coming closer with those black eyes glinting dangerously. “I didn’t mean to… I…” He gulped and changed his strategy and tried to flatter his lover. “Fancy spell, this one…”

“Certainly,” replied Severus coolly.

“So aren’t you going to let me down…?” he pleaded.

“Not without delivering the proper punishment for a cheeky brat,” Severus deadpanned.

Harry gave a nervous laugh, sweating profusely, as he tried to guess what Severus meant by proper punishment.

XxXxX

  
And then later on, his green-eyed lover swore his arse wasn’t the same anymore after Severus had spanked the life out of it. It wasn’t a question of whether he enjoyed delivering the punishment or not. After all, how could he not enjoy it? He literally had Potter begging and crying on his knees. Male or female, Potter was still the most enchanting creature he had ever met. Impertinent, yes, but with reddish bottom, flushed face, and watery green eyes, Potter could entice even a saint to betray the vow of chastity.

Not that he would let his lover know how much he affected him. The point of the punishment was so that Potter would think twice before he fell head first into trouble. Merlin knew that one day his heart was going to stop permanently if Potter kept putting his life in the line of potential danger.

Though he rather doubted that the punishment was enough to beat Potter into obedience, at least they learnt to compromise this time.

“No killing Lady Potter,” said Potter, lying on his front on the bed; his bottom was probably still stinging from being spanked. Those green eyes sparkled with life as the boy schemed. “Hmm, but we should tell everyone that she has been sickly since childhood, and… right, she’s shy too.” Potter sounded unbelievably delighted when he described the misfortune of the fictional woman whose role he would take.

 _Sickly? Shy?_ Severus snorted. “How would you explain where you met her?”

“Err…” Potter blinked owlishly. “She…”

“Yes?”

“She’s your sister!”

“My… _sister_?” Severus arched his eyebrow.

Potter nodded with enthusiasm. “Exactly, your twin sister, think about that! It actually makes sense!”

No, it didn’t make sense to him. “Potter, if anyone bothers to dig around, they will know that I don’t have a sister, much less a twin.”

“But… you didn’t know either.”

He said dubiously, “I didn’t…?”

“She’s been separated from you since birth, and I’ve just found out about her recently!”

Severus decided to humour him. “Pray tell, how can I be sure she’s my sister separated from birth?”

“Er… She… she looks just like you.”

Severus stared at him in disbelief. “You want to marry her when she looks like me?”

“Sev, is it hard to believe that I want to marry you because you look just like you…?” At his disbelieving look, Potter shrugged. “Fine… Let me enlighten you, it’s not unheard of for nobility to marry for money.”

“Potter,” Severus sighed. “Let me recapitulate… You want to marry a woman who looks like me, _a sickly_ woman twenty years your senior, only for the sake of her dowry? You do realize they’ll think I’m paying you sums enough to buy a nation just to avoid her becoming a hopeless spinster.”

“You’re twenty years older than me?” asked Potter, greedily absorbing the information, missing the important part.

“Potter, that’s hardly the issue!” Severus snapped at his lover. “Did you actually hear what I just said?”

Potter said glumly, “I did. I was a fortune hunter, Sev, that’s why I ended up with you, and maybe I still am.” He bit his lips. “Are you going to think I’m marrying you only for your money?”

“You know I’ll deny it,” Severus replied dryly. Someone who only wanted his money wouldn’t so readily volunteer himself to die _all the time_ for his sake.

“Then why should I care if they think badly of me?” Potter said blandly as if it was an obvious fact. “All I want is a chance for us to be happy. They can go to the devil for all I care.”

In all honesty, Severus wasn’t used to worrying about someone else’s reputation. Potter would be the first and probably the last. Besides, he perhaps would be more successful in protecting Potter from his own reckless behaviour if his lover was bound tightly to him, rather than delaying what seemed to be inevitable, even it meant embracing the _unwanted_ roles as a lady, and a Potter to boot.

Severus stared stoically down at his lover, and then valiantly conceded. “Very well, are you prepared to deceive the peers you are distantly related to?”

“Of course, a Gryffindor will never back down when challenged, sir,” Potter stated boldly, grinning, already forgetting the reason he had been spanked.

See what he had meant by reckless? Burning bottom or not, Potter didn’t even bother to show any inclination to change. Severus shook his head, chuckling. _Stubborn fool_. Life with this impertinent angel would be anything but boring.

XxXxX

  
Severus left the warmth of the bed he shared with his lover, properly dressed himself, then walked out of the manor. The icy air was stinging his face, but he kept walking one step after another, treading through the thickness of the snow. He passed through the village, not minding some tenants carrying out their morning activities.

As the church came in sight, he started to slow down. There ahead lay the entrance to the graveyard where row upon row of snowy tombstones had stood with dignity for years as the last reminder of people who had died. He hesitated for a moment before continuing past the gate and wading into the graveyard until he was standing in front of a headstone made of white marble. He stared silently for a long time at the names engraved upon it: James and Lily Potter.

He had questioned himself whether it was wise to pay a visit to the Potters’ tomb, but it felt like something he ought to do – the right thing to do. He wasn’t going to delude himself that their union would be blessed by all, that it was going to be a happy affair celebrated by families and friends as expected of someone who held the stature of a Gryffindor heir.

Instead, the son of the Potter family had to accept him, the worst possible life mate anyone could ever have. Many people found his disposition detestable, while his enemies would say that he was rotten to the core. Not to mention the serious, unforgivable damage he had inflicted on his lover. He had manipulated his Harry to become a paid lover for revenge, driven his best friends away, and then sexually violated him as the final blow.

If James was still alive, he was sure that the man would rather duel him to death than give his son up to marry him. And Lily… he didn’t know what she would say if she was alive, but she might be utterly displeased at his son’s choice of spouse.

To tell the truth, it was a mystery that his lover would still choose someone like him as his other half when he finally had the choice of anyone he wanted. But he couldn’t deny that despite everything that had happened, life without his other half would be meaningless – he would be alive, yes, but not truly living. Fortunately for him, his green-eyed lover somehow also felt the same.

And _that_ wasn’t the ending, but the beginning of something new. Maybe that was why he was here – seeking approval from the dead. After all, he – like it or not – was going to be a Potter by marriage, and hating his dead future in-laws didn’t seem to be a good start. It was time to bury the old grudge, once and for all.

With the tombs as silent witnesses, he vowed, his voice ringing true, “Whatever the future may hold, _I_ , Severus Snape, promise to take good care of your son.”

Then when he turned away from the tomb, he felt that the pressure of doubt had been cleared from his heart. Now he was free to walk side by side with the person he loved the most.

However, as he passed the gate, he heard a voice, softer than the wind, making the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.

 _‘Be happy, Severus…’_

Shocked, Severus turned his head, scanning the area suspiciously. His gaze fell on the distant white tomb. The voice sounded eerily like that of the woman he had once loved who was also the mother of his lover. He firmly shook his head. Lily Potter wasn’t a ghost, she had moved on. It was just his wishful imagination that the rustling of the trees seemed to whisper those words.

It wouldn’t do to dwell on the dead when he had a life to look forward to. So with a last look at the tomb, he walked away and didn’t turn back. He never noticed two figures, less substantial than the living but more than ghosts, who stood near the tomb: one with untidy hair and lopsided glasses who made a rude gesture at his back, while the other with green eyes, so like her son’s, smiled widely.

XxXxX

  
 **Gryffindor Manor, End of Spring, 1862**

While to the Muggle world their marriage consisted of no more than posting marriage banns and obtaining a special license – along with an awkward moment when Snape presented himself as a woman before the Queen – it was more complicated when it came to their magical bonding. It turned out to be, much to his displeasure, an outrageously lavish affair that took months to prepare, often cited as the bonding of the century. Never had so many wizards and witches gathered in one place before, which of course only served to make him irritated beyond belief at their loud and hearty felicitations.

Despite the grudging acceptance by the rest of the wizarding world, Severus couldn’t help irrational worries that something would go wrong, that Potter’s former _inamorata_ would show up, or somehow the headmaster of Hogwarts, who was to marry them, would suddenly get sick, or he’d get struck by lightning right there and then where he stood beside his soon-to-be husband, all of which made him annoyed at himself because of the ridiculousness of those worries.

But then all those thoughts were forgotten; nothing mattered any more as he saw the love of his life walking up the aisle, wearing a silver white dress robe – in complement to his gold and black one. A sight of perfection, with that shy smile on his beloved’s face, which made those green eyes light up enchantingly. That reminded him again that he was a fortunate man, and his opinion was supported by those ladies’ sighs of jealousy.

As they stood side by side and his soon-to-be mate for life’s hand grasped firmly with his own, words were repeated as vows, binding them earnestly and humbly. And when it was declared that they were bonded for life, as they glanced at each other – sharing a smile — Severus couldn’t be sure who, between him and his new husband, was feeling more triumphant for having the other for forever and more.

XxXxX

  
And then right after that, when he thought all was well – not taking into account a bunch of uninvited guests, reporters, lots of them – an uproar occurred. Madam Ronald Weasley, a pregnant woman, who was sitting in the front with her husband – the Honourable Mr. Weasley who had sought a truce with his Harry a week before the ceremony – broke her water.

Because of which, several hours later, they didn’t only celebrate the wedding, but also the birth of Ronald and Hermione Weasley’s daughter. The new parents had named Harry Potter as their baby girl’s godfather. He could see his new husband’s eyes shine with amazement and adoration as he carefully cradled his goddaughter in his arms and called her a tiny miracle.

And then later, when they had the feast in the Great Hall, his husband spoke longingly. “Do you think we’re ready to have our own tiny miracle?”

Severus hated children in general and referred them as snotty brats, but strangely he wasn’t averse to the thought of a child who would resemble his beloved husband. “Your wish is my wish,” he replied, earning him a bright smile from his beloved.

XxXxX

  
 **Ten Months Later**

No one had warned him before that being _enceinte_ – with child – was a _bloody_ terrible ordeal. Harry spent the first three months puking his stomach contents into every vase, every basin, on top of Severus’s boots, basically _everywhere_. To the point that he would have been certain it wasn’t normal if not for Poppy’s reassuring words that his mother suffered the same malady when she was carrying him.

The pregnancy glow that Hermione had described was practically nonexistent, at least for him. He felt tired all the time; moreover, his back and feet were literally killing him. Although his husband insisted that he did have the glow, and was becoming more and more pleasing to the eyes each day of the pregnancy.

He might accuse Severus of lying if his husband hadn’t suddenly regained his ‘Don Juan’ self, despite the man’s best attempt to control his libido. Merlin knew, Severus treated him as if he was fine bone china nowadays because he was the fairer sex who was in a _delicate_ state of health. Though he wouldn’t refuse, _actually_ he encouraged the pleasant distraction that his husband provided. It was the only time he could forget about his _wretched_ condition.

Of course, that didn’t mean he didn’t love the life that was growing inside his womb. Well, how could he not? Just imagining a little dark-haired baby who would be a part of him and Severus, the little one created from their love, was already making his heart burst with happiness.

XxXxX

  
Unlike his husband, Severus didn’t actually feel any attachment to their unborn child the first time his Harry announced that he was pregnant. On the contrary, he felt great dislike of the little intruder. It had made his Harry suffer. And not only that, it also made his husband look more irresistible each day. He definitely didn’t need more competitors, even though that competitor was their new footman who was barely old enough to be employed. His Harry only needed to smile at the said footman and that idiot would make a fool of himself.

But when he saw his husband stroke his swollen stomach while smiling and murmuring tenderly, he would lose all his dislike. How could he not love when his Harry loved it?

XxXxX

  
It was already past midnight when his husband shook him awake. “What is it?” Severus muttered, his eyes heavy with sleep.

“I think… it’s time,” said his Harry with an unusual note of panic in his voice, looking down at his heavily pregnant bulge.

Severus blinked, then his eyes went wide with shock as the words’ significance registered on his brain.

XxXxX

  
If he hadn’t been in such a painful contraction, Harry might have had a good laugh at seeing his husband jump out of bed in the most uncoordinated way, apparently in a state of pure nervousness.

“Wait… Don’t go anywhere…” Severus said, at a loss for words. “I—I’ll fetch the healer.”

That being said, his husband frantically ran out of the bedroom, barely wearing an appropriate garment to cover his body. Harry shook his head, amused. Hopefully, Severus wouldn’t scandalize the healer with his state of nakedness.

“Be good, wait for your father…” he murmured to his unborn child as another contraction rammed and made him clutch the bed sheet. He held back a string of profanities as he felt pressure between his legs and got a strong urge to push. He might be incorrect, but it would seem that the baby was refusing to wait.

XxXxX

  
Severus stood at the door, staring in disbelief at his husband and at _apparently_ their newborn baby, while the annoyed healer who had been forcefully dragged out of his bed under threat of a curse looked mildly interested at the scene. He scarcely registered as Poppy ushered the healer out.

“Our son refused to wait,” said his husband with a weak chuckle, looking pale but obviously well enough to let the happiness show in his voice and smile.

“Ah…” Severus said softly to no one but himself as the tight knot of trepidation in his stomach unravelled, leaving his eyes wet with unrestrained emotion. It was as if he had been waiting for something precious to come, but he hadn’t known what it was, when it would come, and whether he would find it in himself to love it or not.

Walking closer, he carefully inspected their baby boy with his fingers. Their perfect son, their “James Sirius Potter,” he said with a mixture of pride and awe. The first time his husband had proposed that name if their child turned out to be a boy, Severus had frowned hard with disapproval. But as he looked lovingly at his newborn son and his tired husband, he felt rather content with the name. And whereas before, he only had one person in the world he’d treasure more than anything, now he had two.

 _Thank you for giving our son, I love you,_ he said soundlessly with his eyes, for mere words weren’t enough to contain his feelings.

Those smiling green eyes replied back at him. _I know, I love you too, Severus._

XxXxX

  
 **Epilogue**

And that was the story about Severus Snape, who finally found his happiness together with his young husband. It was unknown to the new proud parents that their beloved son, James Sirius Potter, would someday grow up and live up to his namesakes, or that this firstborn would have legendary quarrels with his younger sister, one of which would _literally_ destroy their father’s precious potions laboratory, but well… that was for another story. As for now, let it be said that they all lived happily ever after.

 

-The End-


	2. Several Years Later (More Than Desire - Short Story)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU Magical Historical Romance. Snape-Potter family several years after the main story.

**Several Years Later**

_“You’re mistaken, Sev! He wasn’t flirting with me!”_

_“Of course not, the old bastard just ogled you, undressed you with his eyes. I swear I’m going to—.”_

 

James scrubbed a hand over his face at the silly quarrel that ensued behind the closed door of the manor’s blue room. Jealousy reared its ugly head, _again_. Really, Father could be so possessive of Papa, regardless the fact that Papa only had eyes for Father.

 

From the corner of his eyes, he spotted little toddler, sprinting toward the door and crying, “PAPA!” whom he knew was too handful for the old nanny to care, moreover repeatedly escaped from her.

 

In swift motion, James caught the back of his sister’s dress. “Don’t interrupt them, you little brat,” he said as he learnt that argument was better to be settled early than later if any sense of peace to be regained in this household.

 

He bopped her head as she tried to wiggle her way out of his grip. _Aw, hell._ The selfish brat looked like she was going to erupt into a nasty bawling right here and now. God, he really hated his sister.

 

“James, gentlemen doesn’t hit their little sister,” reprimanded his friend who had been staying since a few days ago with them.

 

James crossed his arms and said haughtily, “Who said I want to be a gentleman?”

 

Coming closer, Teddy Lupin said strait-laced as ever, “Really, James? You’re going to break your Papa’s heart,” sounding much older than his real age unlike how a nine years old boy should behave.

 

“Come here, Lily,” said Lupin, lifting up the toddler and deposited her in his arms. He made her squealed with delight when he said with a smile, “Don’t cry, Princess.”

 

James snorted. “You spoiled her. She’s going to be a shrew in her later life.”

 

“James, language!” Lupin gave him a scandalous look while his sister blew him a raspberry now that she had her white knight in her defense.

 

His reply was lost in a very-not-innocent moan which cut through their conversation.

 

_“Oh, yes, Sev…”_

 

Lupin had the decency to blush while James made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. It was so typically of his parents. He couldn’t count how many times he had his eyes scarred by seeing his parents’ intimacy when they made up after their latest quarrel.

 

“Let’s go, Lupin.” He grabbed his friend’s arm, pulling the still blushing boy from the disastrous scene.

 

As they walked away, Lupin said, “You know sometimes I envy your parents, they’re still so much in love…”

 

Lily interrupted enthusiastically, “I love Papa and Father too,” obviously had no idea what Lupin was talking about.

 

“Quiet, you brat,” he said nastily to his sister, causing her lips to quiver, and then made a face. “Easy to say, you’re not the one who has to live with such embarrassing parents.”

 

Lupin protested, “They are not embarrassing. I’ve been hearing story about your Father, no one dared to cross him. The boys were talking about him that he was a…”

 

Rolling his eyes, James tuned him out. All things aside, everything was well once more in the house and he couldn’t really complain about it. Besides, he thought about his brand new Nimbus brooms prototype with a smirk, being a Snape-Potter did have its perks.

 

“Come on, Lupin… I’ll race you to the garden, the first one arrive there, get to ride on my new Nimbus!”

 

James laughed out loud as his friend cried foul, knowing the other boy wouldn’t get there first, being burdened by the weight of his sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A real short story. I hope you guys like it. It’s all I can manage to write right now. Let’s just pretend Nimbus company was already there in 1800, yeah?


End file.
